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THE    SECOND   MRS.    JIM 


OP  GALIF.  LStRARY.  tOS  ANClM* 


4* 


Mr*.  3fim 


Stcpijcn  <rouratJ 


litf)  a  JTrontispirrr  6n 

(Ernest  J  osbcrp 


Boston 


*  *  * 


Copyright,  1904 
BY  L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
All  rights  reserved 


Published  May,  1904 


Colonial 

Eloctrotypad  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Slmonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 


TO 

Jat&er  anU  Jflot&er 


2126526 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBR  PAGE 

I.  A  LONELY  OLD  MAID                                      i 

II.  THE  WEDDIN'-TRIP       .        .        .        .21 

III.  "  DESPERIT'  REMEDIES"         ...      43 

IV.  A  CURE  FOR  STRIKES     ....      58 
V.  A  FINGER  IN  THE  PIE    ....      77 

VI.     MANAGIN'  JIM 107 

VII.  A  MARTYR  TO  THE  CAUSE     .        .        .123 

VIII.  A  WOMAN'S  WILES         .        .        .        .145 


THE     SECOND     MRS.   JIM 
CHAPTER   I 

A  LONELY  OLD  MAID 


,'  I  says,  *I  won't  marry  you.' 
Then  I  went  on,  {I  s'pose  you  think 
that  I'm  a  lonely  old  maid,  an'  you're 
only  askin'  me  to  marry  you  out  of 
your  kindness  of  heart.'  He  started  to 
say  somethin',  but  I  says,  'Now  don't  in- 
terrupt me.  You've  had  your  say  an'  now 
I'll  tell  you  a  thing  or  two.  If  you  think 

[  - 1 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


I'm  a  lonely  old  maid,  you're  mightily 
mistaken.  I  guess  I'll  have  to  tell  you 
first  what  an  old  maid  is.  Then  I'll  tell 
you  somethin'  about  loneliness  an'  bein' 
lonely,  an'  I  guess  you'll  change  your 
mind  about  me  bein'  one  of  that  kind. 

"  'An  old  maid  is  any  livin'  thing,  male 
or  female,  human  or  horse,  cat,  pig,  or 
chicken,  that's  so  finicky,  so  p'ticular 
about  some  one  little  thing  that  don't 
really  amount  to  much,  that  he  don't  pay 
no  attention  to  some  of  the  really  impor- 
tant things  of  life.  Take  that  cat  out 
there  on  the  fence.  I  always  call  her  my 
"old  maid"  cat.  She'll  set  an'  wash  her 
face  by  the  hour  while  her  five  kittens  is 
as  thin  an'  hungry-lookin'  as  rails.  If 
she'd  get  out  an'  hustle,  I'd  be  inclined 
to  respect  her  an'  I'd  drown  some  of  the 

[    2]- 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


kittens  to  help  her  out,  but  goodness, 
thinks  I,  "God  help  them  that  won't  help 
themselves."  I  won't  help  'em.  An'  I've 
got  a  hen  that  takes  so  long  to  find  a  place 
to  make  her  nestj  that  she  don't  get  time 
to  lay  no  eggs.  Then  there's  neighbour — 
well,  I  won't  name  no  names,  but  he's  the 
worst  "old  maid"  I  ever  see.  He  spends 
all  his  time  keepin'  his  fence  an'  the  front 
of  his  barn  an'  house  lookin'  fine  so's  folks 
will  say  how  smart  he  is,  but  you  ought  to 
see  the  weeds  back  of  his  barn.  Guess  he 
thinks  it  saves  plantin'  a  willow  wind- 
break back  there.  Now  they're  good 
samples  of  the  real  "old  maid."  So  you 
see  that  just  not  bein'  married  don't  make 
a  body  an  "old  maid."  Why,  it's  born  in 
'em.  As  the  book  says,  "Some  folks  is 
born  old  maids,  some  is  born  widows,  an' 

[3 1 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


some  few,"  mighty  few,  I'll  tell  you,  "is 
born  men  an'  women."  I  don't  under- 
take to  explain  that  about  the  "widows," 
but  I  guess  it  means  that  just  as  some 
folks  is  born  so  awful  finicky  (them's  the 
"old  maids"),  so  others  is  born  kind  o' 
palavery,  an'  soft-sawdery,  an'  always 
shinin'  up  to  people.  Them's  the 
"widows."  Not  that  I'd  say  anything 
against  real  widows.  There's  some  that's 
all  right,  but  when  you  stop  to  think 
about  it,  them  few  is  the  kind  that's  born 
"men  an'  women." ' 

"An'  then,  when  I  was  started,  I  kep' 
right  on.  I  don't  remember  jes'  exactly 
what  I  told  him,  but  I'll  tell  you  as  near 
as  I  can. 

'  'I  don't  s'pose  you  ever  thought  about 
it,  but  do  you  know  the   reason  why 

[4] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


there's  so  many  unhappy  marriages?  It's 
all  because  the  folks  don't  think  before- 
hand, an'  one  of  the  "old  maid"  kind 
marries  another  of  the  same  kind,  an'  of 
course  they  can't  get  along  together.  Or 
two  "widows"  marries,  an'  they  mighty 
soon  get  tired  of  each  other's  palavery 
ways.  But  you  won't  never  find  an  un- 
happy marriage  when  two  of  the  "men 
an'  women"  kind  gets  married.  A 
"widow"  an'  one  of  the  "old  maid"  kind 
may  get  along  all  right  together,  but  you 
join  one  of  the  "men  an'  women"  kind  to 
one  of  the  other  kinds,  an'  there's  sure  to 
be  a  pretty  hard  time  for  the  one  that's 
"men  an'  women"  kind.  The  "old  maid" 
or  the  "widow"  can  stand  it.' 

"  'Now  I'm  s'prised  that  you  didn't  tell 
me  you  loved  me.    All  the  others  did. 

[5  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


An'  some  of  'em  swore  I  was  the  first  one 
they  ever  loved,  an'  one  or  two  of  'em  had 
been  married  for  twenty  years,  too,  when 
their  wives  died.  Well,  thank  goodness, 
that  shows  you  ain't  the  "widow"  kind. 
An'  you  never  said  anything  about  me 
bein'  the  only  one  that  could  take  hold  of 
your  two  boys,  an'  straighten  'em  out. 
That's  another  good  proof  that  you  ain't 
the  "widow"  kind. 

"'Now,  let's  see  if  you're  the  "old 
maid"  kind.  "Old  maid"  men,  when 
they  go  sparkin',  shine  their  shoes,  an' 
grease  their  hair,  an'  get  fresh  shaved,  an' 
buy  a  new  buggy,  an'  tie  ribbins  on  the 
whip,  an'  all  the  time  there's  buttons  off 
their  vests,  an'  the  harness  is  tied  up  with 
string  on  the  off  side  where  the  sparkee 
can't  see  it,  an'  their  shoes  ain't  shined  at 
[6] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


the  heels,  an'  their  necktie's  pinned  to- 
gether, an'  lots  of  little  things  like  that. 
Now,  I  can't  accuse  you  of  any  of  these 
things,  for  you  look  just  like  you  did 
when  your  wife  was  alive,  shoes  never 
even  'iled,  shaved  once  on  an  election 
bet,  same  old  buggy  that  ain't  been 
washed  since  the  big  rain  at  camp- 
meetin',  hazel  switch  for  a  whip,  an'  so 
on.  Well,  I'm  glad  you  ain't  the  "old 
maid"  kind.  I'm  conceity  enough  to 
think  that  I'm  one  of  the  "men  an' 
women"  kind,  an'  I  won't  so  much  as 
think  of  marryin'  one  of  the  other  kinds. 
No,  I  ain't  thinkin'  of  marryin'  you. 
You  seem  to  be  one  of  the  "men  an' 
women"  kind,  too,  but  I  told  you  I 
wouldn't,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  stick  to  it. 
'Now  I'm  goin'  to  say  a  little  about 


"  ' 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


loneliness.  Yes,  I  know  I'm  talkin'  a 
good  deal,  but  you  see  what  you'd  have 
to  stand  if  I  married  you.  I  don't  get  the 
chance  very  often  to  free  my  mind. 
You'll  say  now  that  shows  I'm  lonely,  but 
I  think  you'll  understand  when  I  get 
through,  that  there's  a  great  big  differ- 
ence between  bein'  alone,  an'  bein'  lonely. 
Some  of  the  loneliest  folks  I  know  lives 
in  the  same  house  right  in  the  same  fami- 
lies with  a  lot  of  others,  an'  some  of  the 
least  lonely  ones  lives  off  in  some  little 
house  all  alone.  It  ain't  all  in  bein' 
where  other  folks  is,  unless  the  other 
folks  is  your  kind  of  folks.  I  don't  mean 
"old  maid"  an'  "widow"  now.  I  mean 
the  kind  of  folks  that  thinks  near  enough 
like  you  do  to  make  it  easy  gettin'  along 
with  'em.  Religion  is  the  thing  that 
[8] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


makes  the  most  lonely  lives,  an'  it  makes 
most  of  the  other  kind,  too.  You  take  a 
great  big  family,  where  all  the  folks 
thinks  just  alike  except  just  one,  an'  if 
that  ain't  the  loneliest  place  in  all  the 
world  for  that  one,  I  miss  my  guess. 
Then  you  take  a  little  home  where  there's 
just  one,  an'  he  gets  along  well  all  by  him- 
self 'cause  he  don't  have  no  one  to  dispute 
with  about  religion,  or  folks'  characters, 
or  none  of  the  disputin'  subjects.  Some- 
times you  find  the  other  kind,  that  can't 
agree  with  himself  about  religion.  Rob- 
inson Crusoe  was  that  kind.  He  was  just 
as  lonely  as  could  be,  an'  only  because  he 
couldn't  agree  with  himself  about  relig- 
ion, an',  as  I  remember,  he  spoiled  the 
best  part  of  his  story  stickin*  in  his  own 
worries  an'  disputes  with  himself. 

[  9  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"  'Now,  I  agree  pretty  well  with  my- 
self, so  I  don't  get  lonely.  But  say,  did 
you  ever  stop  to  think  about  how  many 
words  there  is  that  mean  lonely,  an'  how 
few  to  say  the  other  thing?  I  hope  it 
ain't  'cause  there's  so  many  more  lonely 
folks  than  there  is  the  other  kind.  Let's 
see,  there's  lonesome,  an'  forlorn,  and  sol- 
itary, an'  desolate,  an'  friendless,  but  I've 
never  heard  the  word  yet  that  means  just 
the  other  thing. 

1  'So  now  I  hope  you  won't  go  off  with 
the  idea  in  your  head  that  I'm  a  lonely 
old  maid,  for  if  you've  followed  what 
I've  been  tellin'  you,  I  think  I've  shown 
you  that  I'm  not  lonely  an'  I'm  not  that 
kind.' 

"Just  then  he  broke  in  to  say  somethin' 
I  didn't  quite  catch. 

[  10] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


"  'What's  that?  Oh,  will  I  go  to  the 
picnic  next  Wednesday  with  you?  Well, 
now,  don't  it  seem  to  you  that  after  I've 
give  you  the  mitten,  you'd  better  not 
waste  any  more  time  on  me?  Time  flies, 
you  know.  Hadn't  you  better  tie  ribbins 
on  your  whip —  your  switch,  I  mean? 
There's  lots  of  nice  girls  that  won't  get  to 
go  to  that  picnic  so  you'll  have  plenty  to 
pick  from.  You  won't,  eh?  Well,  I'll 
go  then.  Come  early. 

"  'Oh,  don't  you  want  to  take  some 
cookies  to  those  boys  of  yours?  No,  'tain't 
that  I  want  'em  to  get  used  to  my  cookin'. 
I  didn't  know  you  had  spunk  enough  to 
think  of  that.  You're  more  the  "men 
an*  women"  kind  than  I  thought.  No,  I 
won't  think  it  over.  An'  you  needn't  plan 
to  "pop"  again  next  Wednesday.  What's 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


that?  You  won't  come  unless  you  can? 
Well,  you  needn't  come  then.  It'll  save 
me  gettin'  the  dinner  ready.  You're 
comin'  anyhow,  'cause  I  promised,  be 
you?  Well,  I  won't  go.  Comin'  any- 
how, be  you?  Well,  if  you  do  come,  come 
early.' 

"On  Wednesday  morning  I  hadn't 
hardly  got  my  work  done  up  when  he 
drove  up.  I'll  tell  you  what  I  said,  for 
some  way  I  remember  pretty  well  every- 
thing that  was  said  and  happened  that 
day. 

"Land  sakes,  you  did  come  early! 
Why,  I  haven't  got  the  work  half  done 
up  yet.  How's  the  boys?  In  mischief, 
as  usual,  I  s'pose.  Only  thing  I  can  see 
for  you  to  do  is  to  hustle  'round  an'  get 
some  fool  girl  to  marry  you.  I'm  sorry 

[    12    ] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


I  told  you  about  the  "old  maids"  an'  the 
"widows,"  though,  for  I'm  afraid  it'll 
make  you  too  p'ticular.  Well,  it's  too 
late,  now.  No,  you  needn't  hitch  your 
horse.  I'll  be  right  out. 

"  'Now,  I'm  ready  to  start.  Did  the 
boys  like  the  cookies?  I  made  an  e^try 
cake,  when  I  was  bakin'  for  the  picnic, 
you  can  take  to  'em  when  you  go  home. 
What's  that?  Seem  to  like  my  cookin', 
do  they?  Well,  anybody'd  like  somethin' 
to  eat  after  bein'  starved  like  your  boys  is, 
an'  without  anybody  to  care  for  'em. 
When  your  first  wife  cooked  so  nice,  too, 
an'  then  for  them  to  come  down  to  hired 
man's  cookin'.  An'  their  pa  off  galli- 
vantin'  'round  to  picnics  an'  such,  so  they 
don't  get  no  care  to  home.  No,  I  won't 
marry  you,  an'  if  you  say  another  word 

[  -3  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


about  it  before  we  get  home  to-night,  I'll 
get  out  an'  walk. 

"  'I  guess  the  old  cow  won't  get  into 
the  garden  while  I'm  gone.  I  do  hate 
fixin'  the  fences  when  she  does  break 
through,  so  I  put  it  off  till  she  eats  every- 
thing I've  got.  You've  got  a  good  gar- 
den? What's  that  to  me?  Do  you  want 
me  to  get  out  an'  walk? 

"  There  comes  Tom  White's  team  be- 
hind us.  Drive  slow  so't  I  can  talk  with 
his  folks.  Oh,  I  can  talk  with  you  most 
any  time,  seems  like.  Say,  you  drive  on 
one  side  of  the  road,  so  Tom  can  drive 
up  beside  us ;  then  we  can  visit  all  the  way 
to  the  picnic.  We  won't  meet  nobody, 
an'  it's  easy  to  pull  out  if  we  do.' 

"An'  we  drove  on  to  the  picnic-ground 
a-visitin'  away  as  fast  as  we  could  talk, 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


me  an'  Tom  White.  Tom's  wife  never 
was  much  of  a  talker. 

"After  dinner  when  we  was  settin' 
'round  visitin',  Jim  suggested  we  take  a 
walk  up  the  ravine.  I  remember  just 
what  I  said  to  him  an'  ev'rything  about  it. 

"  'Now,  what  do  you  want  to  walk  up 
that  old  ravine  for?  Must  think  you're 
young  again,  to  go  climbin'  over  those 
rocks.  You've  never  been  there?  Why, 
that's  so,  you  moved  here  after  you  was 
married,  didn't  you?  Well,  you'd  have 
been  there  if  you  was  raised  around  here. 
All  the  young  folks  goes.  It's  the  worst 
place,  or  best  place  (accordin'  to  how  you 
look  at  it)  for  engagements,  that  ever  I 
heard  of.  Why,  I  remember  one  picnic 
where  there  was  either  seven  or  eight  ra- 
vine engagements,  an'  all  turned  out 

t  '5  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


pretty  well,  too.  Oh,  yes,  I  s'pose  I  might 
as  well  show  you  the  ravine.  Folks  will 
talk,  though.  An'  I  walk  home  to-night 
if  you  say  a  word  about  "poppin','' 
remember  that.  How  many  times  have  I 
been  up  the  ravine?  I  don't  know.  I 
don't  keep  a  notched  stick.  Most  always 
went  up  with  some  one  of  the  "old  maid" 
or  "widow"  kind,  though. 

"  'Here's  the  place  where  the  paths  di- 
vide. We'll  take  the  middle  one.  Don't 
many  take  that,  'cause  the  rocks  is  so 
rough.  But  you  can  help  me.  I  want  to 
show  you  the  little  waterfall.  Most  folks 
that  comes  up  here  don't  see  that.  They 
turn  off  on  one  of  the  other  paths.  Look 
out  for  rollin'  stones.  This  is  a  bad  place, 
but  you  would  come.  I  remember  the 
first  time  I  came  up  here  I  didn't  see  the 
[  16  ] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


waterfall.  Didn't  know  there  was  one  till 
I'd  been  up  here  a  dozen  times,  I  guess. 
An'  I  must  have  seen  the  waterfall  about 
a  dozen  times  since  that.  It's  an  awful 
pretty  place,  all  water,  an'  moss,  an'  ferns, 
an'  greenery.  An'  it's  too  cold  for  snakes. 
There's  lots  of  snakes  on  the  other  paths. 
That's  why  there's  so  many  engagements. 
The  girl  sees  a  snake,  an'  the  man  kills  it, 
an'  cuts  off  the  rattles  for  her.  It  works 
sure.  Always  fetches  the  girl.' 

"I  was  talkin'  away  as  fast  as  I  could  to 
keep  him  from  proposin',  for  I  knew  he 
was  goin'  to,  when  he  slipped  an'  went 
right  down  out  of  sight.  I  yelled,  'Oh-h-h, 
Jim,  what's  the  matter?  Are  you  hurt?  I 
told  you  to  look  out  for  rollin'  stones. 
How  can  I  get  down  to  help  you?  Why 
don't  you  answer?' 

1 17] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"I  didn't  hear  a  thing,  so  I  slid  right 
down  where  he  was,  over  brush  an'  rocks, 
an'  all.  Then  I  says,  'Now  I'm  down 
here,  can't  you  speak?  Thank  goodness, 
you  can  talk.  Now,  where  are  you  hurt? 
What  is  it?  Talk  louder.  Oh,  don't  you 
dare  to  go  an'  faint.  Here,  this  cold 
water  will  bring  you  round.  It's  the  only 
han'k'chief  I've  got  with  me,  but  I  don't 
care.'  He  muttered  something.  What? 
Your  ankle?  Now,  how  am  I  ever  to  get 
you  out  of  here?  Well,  if  you  ain't  an 
exasperatin'  man,  takin'  a  woman  to  walk 
up  the  ravine,  an'  then  fallin'  over  the 
cliff  an'  sprainin'  your  ankle!  Here,  stand 
up!  You're  shammin'!  Now  walk!' 
He  tried  to  an'  nearly  fell  over.  I  cried 
out,  'Oh-h-h,  don't  look  like  that!  Does 
it  hurt  that  bad?  Give  me  your  knife,  I'll 
[  18  ] 


A  Lonely  Old  Maid 


cut  your  shoe!  Is  that  better?  Here, 
wait  a  minute.  Give  me  your  han'k'- 
chief.  Is  that  all  the  han'k'chief  you've 
got  with  you?  That  ain't  a  han'k'chief  at 
all.  An'  your  sock!  Why,  you'll  have 
corns  an'  blood-poison,  an'  I  don't  know 
what  all  the  matter  with  you.  Wearin' 
socks  that  ain't  got  either  heels  or  toes! 
Well,  if  you  go  'round  like  this,  goin'  to 
picnics,  too,  with  such  lookin'  socks  an' 
han'k'chiefs,  what  must  your  poor  boys 
have  to  stand?  An'  they'll  have  corns  all 
their  lives  if  their  feet  ain't  easy  now.'  I 
was  busy  wrappin'  up  his  ankle  for  some 
little  while  an'  when  I  got  done  (I'd  been 
doin'  some  thinkin'  too),  I  says  real  slow, 
'Do  you  know,  Jim,  if  I  hadn't  told  you  I 
wouldn't  marry  you,  I'd  almost  change 
my  mind?'  He  said  somethin'  I  couldn't 

19  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


catch.  What  d'you  say?  You  put  on  the 
best  pair  of  socks  you  had?  Well,  Jim,  if 
you  think  you  can  stand  it  to  wear  whole 
socks,  an'  to  carry  han'k'chiefs  that  ain't 
rags,  why — well,  you  can  tell  your  boys, 
when  you  take  'em  that  cake,  that  they 
might  just  as  well  begin  to  get  used  to  my 
cookinV  " 


[  20] 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  WEDDIN'-TRIP 


W  HY,  come  right  in,  and  take  off 
your  things.  I  haven't  seen  you  since 
before  I  was  married.  I  guess  you  was 
the  only  one  outside  of  the  family  that 
knew  I  was  goin'  to  be.  Set  down,  do. 
What's  that?  Came  over  to  hear  about 
the  weddin'-trip?  Well,  there  ain't 
much  to  tell,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  there 
is. 

"You  know,  the  day  we  went  to  the  pic- 
nic when  Jim  sprained  his  ankle  or  didn't 
sprain  it,  I  don'  know  which,  an'  dasn't 
ask  him  for  fear  he'll  think  he  was  clever 

[    21    ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


enough  to  fool  me,  well,  that  day  was 
Wednesday,  an'  when  Jim  begin  talkin' 
about  our  bein'  married,  I  told  him  I'd 
marry  him  two  weeks  from  the  next  Sat- 
urday, an'  that  would  give  me  time  to 
pack  up  my  stuff,  an'  give  him  time  to  tell 
his  boys,  an'  to  let  the  hired  man  off  for  a 
few  days.  It  was  just  as  well  not  to  have 
him  around  to  put  the  boys  up  to  mean- 
ness an'  to  stir  up  the  neighbour  boys  to 
shivaree  us.  So  I  told  Jim  to  be  sure  not 
to  tell  him  at  all.  An'  then,  too,  the 
weddin'  would  come  at  a  time  when  it 
wouldn't  interfere  with  the  farm  work. 
As  to  tellin'  the  boys,  I  asked  Jim  to 
stop  at  my  house  when  he  went  to 
town  the  next  Saturday,  but  not  to  say 
nothin'  to  the  boys  about  me  till  after 
that. 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


"On  Saturday  he  stopped  an'  I  packed 
up  a  fried  chicken  I  had  ready,  an'  some 
cake.  I  didn't  send  the  cake  the  day  of 
the  picnic.  Forgot  all  about  it.  An'  I 
had  some  preserves  an'  some  other  things 
in  the  basket.  An'  I  says  to  Jim,  'Now  to- 
morrow is  Sunday.  The  hired  man  will 
be  away  for  the  day.  Now  just  set  this 
stuff  before  the  boys,  an'  I  guess  they'll 
enjoy  it.  Then  you  tell  'em  that  you're 
goin'  to  be  married,  an'  tell  'em  that  the 
woman  that  you're  goin'  to  marry  sent 
that  cookin'  for  them  to  try.  They're  old 
enough  now  to  have  things  like  that 
talked  over  with  'em.  Then  you  can  go 
on  an'  tell  'em  that  you're  goin'  to  get 
married  on  Saturday  the  week  after  next, 
an'  that  you're  goin'  to  take  them  an*  me 

[  23 1 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


to  town,  an'  you  an'  I'll  be  married  first 
an'  then  we'll  all  go  to  the  circus.' 

"He  kicked  a  little  at  first,  but  I  made 
him  practise  till  he  could  say  all  I  told 
him  just  as  if  he  thought  of  it  himself.  I 
told  him,  'Don't  you  let  the  boys  know 
but  what  you  thought  of  the  whole  thing 
yourself.  I  know  you  wouldn't  have 
thought  of  takin'  the  boys,  but  let  'em 
think  you  did.  There  ain't  no  reason  why 
the  children  should  be  left  at  home  alone 
all  day,  plannin'  mean  things  to  do,  an' 
doin'  'em,  while  their  pa  is  off  gettin' 
married.  I  believe  in  takin'  'em  along 
an'  makin'  'em  have  so  good  a  time  that 
they'll  look  back  on  the  day  that  their 
stepmother  comes  as  the  beginnin'  of 
the  best  time  they  ever  had  in  all  their 
lives.  You  can  tell  'em  not  to  say  nothin' 
[  24  ] 


The  Weddm'-Trip 


about  it,  an'  if  they  keep  still,  then 
nobody  won't  stuff  their  heads  full  of 
nonsense  about  stepmothers.'  Seem's  if 
some  folks  don't  have  nothin'  better  to 
do  than  try  to  make  other  folks'  children 
unhappy,  anyway.  The  only  reason  why 
stepmothers  is  hated  so  is  just  'cause 
gran'mothers  an'  hired  men  an'  help  an' 
all  the  others  without  nothin'  else  to  think 
about,  stuff  the  youngsters'  heads  full  of 
yarns.  An'  I  told  him  as  he  drove  off, 
'Now,  there  ain't  no  reason  why  you 
should  come  here  again  until  the  mornin' 
of  circus  day.  I'll  have  enough  to  do 
packin'  my  stuff.  An'  don't  bother  about 
the  dinner.  I'll  see  to  that.  Be  here 
early  'cause  it's  a  long  ride  to  town,  an' 
we  want  to  get  married  before  the  parade 
comes  off,  so's  to  have  that  off  our  minds.' 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


He  kind  o'  kicked  on  not  comin',  but  I'd 
set  my  mind  on  it,  an'  so  he  agreed. 

"I'd  seen  enough  of  stepmothers  an' 
boys  in  my  time  to  know  that  I  wasn't 
goin'  to  have  them  boys  feel  toward 
me  the  way  some  boys  does  toward  step- 
mothers. If  they're  handled  right,  from 
the  start,  they  can't  help  but  come  out 
right,  an'  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I'd 
do  my  best  to  handle  'em  right.  I  was 
sure  Jim  wouldn't  interfere,  'cause  he 
said  he  was  goin'  to  kind  o'  leave  the 
boys  to  me.  They'd  had  a  little  too  much 
'pa'  durin'  the  last  year  an'  a  half.  An'  I 
went  into  the  thing  with  my  eyes  wide 
open.  I  knew  if  Jim  tackled  'em  Sunday 
afternoon  after  they'd  finished  that  fried 
chicken,  about  bein'  married,  that  they'd 
agree,  an'  it's  lots  easier  on  the  father,  to 
[  26] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


say  nothin'  of  the  stepmother,  when  the 
children  ain't  raisin'  objections.  Then  I 
depended  on  the  circus  to  do  the  rest.  Jim 
said  they  hadn't  ever  been  to  one,  an'  I 
kind  o'  wanted  to  see  it  myself,  so  I  didn't 
see  why  all  of  us  couldn't  see  it  together. 
An'  I  thought  it  no  more'n  fair  that  the 
boys  should  have  a  chance  to  see  their  'pa' 
married.  Then  besides,  ev'rybody  knows 
that  if  you  really  want  to  get  to  know  a 
couple  of  boys,  all  you  have  to  do  is  to 
take  'em  to  the  circus,  or  county  fair, 
or  anything  of  the  kind  that's  handy.  I 
knew  I'd  know  enough  more  about  them 
boys  after  that  day  was  over  to  more  than 
pay  for  takin'  'em,  an'  knowin'  is  the  big- 
gest part  of  raisin',  as  you'll  find  with  any- 
thing, turkeys,  or  chickens,  or  boys. 
"On  the  day  of  the  circus,  about  half- 

[  27  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


past  seven,  the  three  drove  up  in  a  two- 
seated  buggy  that  Jim  had  borrowed  for 
the  day.  The  boys  was  fixed  up  so  they 
looked  pretty  good,  an'  they  was  so  un- 
comfortable they  could  hardly  set  still, 
for  they  had  on  their  heavy  woollen  suits, 
an'  stiff  shoes,  for  the  first  time  in  months, 
I  guess.  The  boys  didn't  get  out,  but  Jim 
came  in  an'  carried  out  the  big  basket  of 
lunch  an'  dinner  I  had  ready,  an'  then  I 
went  over  the  old  house  just  to  look  at  it 
for  the  last  time.  Ev'rything  looked  kind 
o'  bare,  an'  the  boxes  an'  barrels  made  the 
rooms  look  kind  o'  different,  but  I  wanted 
to  say  'Good-bye'  to  the  place  just  the 
same.  Then  we  went  out  an'  Jim  says  to 
the  boys,  'She's  the  one  that's  goin'  to  be 
your  ma.'  I'd  told  him  not  to  use  the 
word  'mother'  to  the  boys,  'cause  maybe 
[  28  ] 


The  Wed  din' -Trip 


they  might  want  to  think  of  me  as  their 
'ma',  an'  of  their  dead  mother  as  'mother,' 
an'  there  wa'n't  no  use  in  mixin'  'em  right 
at  the  start.  I  knew  beforehand  which 
was  which  of  the  boys,  Jimmie  the  oldest, 
an'  Frankie  the  other.  I  didn't  want 
either  of  the  boys  to  ride  in  the  seat  with 
me,  'cause  it  would  spoil  his  whole  ride, 
so  I  says  to  Jim,  'Hadn't  you  better  ride 
in  the  back  seat  with  me,  an'  let  Jimmie 
drive?  Then  we  can  talk  better.'  I  knew 
the  boy  was  achin'  to  show  off  how  well 
he  could  drive,  an'  I  knew  by  the  way  he 
held  the  lines  that  he  knew  just  what  he 
was  doin'.  Jim  always  drives  a  good 
team.  I  s'pose  he  wants  a  team  that  can 
make  up  for  the  time  he  loses  with  his 
slowness. 

"As  soon  as  we  was  started,  I  told  the 

[  29  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


boys  they'd  better  take  off  their  coats,  an1 
shoes  an'  stockin's.  There  wa'n't  any  use 
of  their  sufferin'  all  day.  They'd  suffer 
enough  when  they  got  to  town  with  their 
shoes  on.  So  they  began  to  feel  a  little 
more  comfortable,  an'  I  noticed,  though  I 
didn't  let  them  know  I  did,  how  they'd 
turn  around  an'  look  at  me.  I  didn't 
blame  'em.  I  was  goin'  to  study  them  that 
day,  why  shouldn't  they  study  me?  If 
you've  got  to  live  all  the  time  in  the  same 
house  with  folks,  it's  just  as  well  to  know 
all  you  can  about  'em. 

"Pretty  soon,  I  opened  up  the  basket  of 
lunch.  I  knew  they  hadn't  had  much  to 
eat  at  home  that  mornin'  'cause  Jim 
couldn't  cook  very  well,  an'  besides,  they 
hadn't  had  time.  An'  I  thought  they'd 
better  eat  now  while  they  was  on  the  road, 
[  30  ] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


'cause  there'd  be  too  much  to  see  after 
they  got  to  town.  They  eat  as  if  they 
hadn't  had  a  thing  since  the  chicken  I  sent 


'em. 


"The  circus  was  at  the  county-seat,  an' 
I  don't  believe  that  either  one  of  the  boys 
had  ever  been  to  the  place.  All  the  town 
they  knew  was  just  the  little  village  three 
or  four  miles  away  from  their  home. 

"There  was  just  crowds  comin'  in  from 
all  directions,  so  the  road  got  pretty 
crowded,  but  there'd  been  a  rain  the 
night  before  so  the  dust  was  laid,  an'  we 
made  good  time. 

"After  awhile  we  got  to  town  an'  drove 
up  in  front  of  a  store.  Jim  wanted  to  get 
somethin'  before  we  was  married,  I  don't 
know  what,  the  ring,  maybe.  We  left  the 
boys  settin'  in  the  buggy,  an'  went  into  the 

[  31  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


store.  They  had  plenty  to  see,  an'  Jimmie 
had  his  hands  full  watchin'  out  for  the 
team.  When  we  got  into  the  store,  Jim 
said  he  wanted  to  go  an'  get  shaved,  but  I 
says,  'No,  sir,  we  ain't  goin'  to  wait  for 
that.  If  you  can  go  all  the  time  without 
bein'  shaved  or  havin'  your  whiskers 
trimmed,  you  can  get  married  without. 
It's  pretty  near  time  for  the  parade,  an' 
we'll  just  have  time  to  get  married  before 
that.  I  don't  want  the  boys  to  miss  a  thing 
that  they  can  possibly  see  to-day.'  I  was 
glad  he  didn't  say  anything  while  we  was 
in  the  buggy  about  bein'  shaved,  'cause 
it's  just  as  well  that  the  boys  shouldn't 
know  how  their  pa  has  to  have  things 
said  to  him  once  in  awhile.  It  kind  o' 
keeps  their  respect  for  him,  don't  you 
think? 

[  32  ] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


"The  circus  was  to  be  at  the  fair- 
grounds, an'  the  minister  we  went  to  lived 
up  that  way,  so  we  drove  right  up  there, 
an'  was  married,  just  the  minister  an'  his 
wife  an'  daughter  an'  the  two  boys  bein' 
there.  Then  they  asked  us  to  stay  at  their 
house  an'  watch  the  parade  from  their 
porch.  It  was  a  mighty  good  place,  'cause 
the  whole  thing  had  to  pass  right  by,  an' 
we  watched  it  till  it  all  got  past,  then  we 
went  over  on  the  other  side  of  the  block 
an'  watched  it  come  back.  I  never  see 
two  boys  enjoy  anything  more  than  they 
did  that.  We  had  hitched  the  team  in 
the  minister's  yard,  an'  after  the  parade 
we  drove  up  to  where  the  circus  tents  was 
up,  to  see  the  man  walk  the  tight  wire,  an' 
to  see  the  girl  go  up  in  the  balloon.  I 
thought  the  boys  would  go  up,  too,  an' 

[  33  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


when  we  drove  over  in  the  shade  of  the 
trees  by  the  fair-ground  fence  to  eat  din- 
ner they  couldn't  any  more  eat  than  they 
could  fly.  I  made  'em  try,  an'  when  they 
got  done  there  was  some  more  of  a  hole  in 
the  big  basket  of  lunch  I'd  brought.  Jim 
had  bargained  with  the  minister  to  put 
the  team  in  his  barn,  so  after  we'd  fin- 
ished eatin',  he  drove  off  with  the  team 
an'  the  two  boys.  I  knew  they'd  rather  be 
with  him,  an'  I  waited  at  the  gate  for  'em 
to  come  back.  They  got  back  pretty  soon, 
for  we  wanted  to  see  ev'rything,  beginnin' 
at  the  side-show,  an'  takin'  the  rest  in  or- 
der. We  was  about  the  first  to  go  into  the 
side-show,  an'  we  stayed  there  till  we 
heard  the  man  callin',  'Menagerie  now 
open  in  the  big  tent.'  Then  we  went  in  to 
see  the  animals,  an'  stayed  there  till  al 
[  34] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


most  time  for  the  show  to  commence  in 
the  ring.  I  had  told  Jim  to  get  reserved 
seats  when  we  was  down-town,  so  we  had 
plenty  of  time  an'  no  hurryin',  an'  'twas 
worth  all  it  cost  extry.  I  thought  we  all 
might  as  well  be  comfortable,  bein'  it  was 
the  boys'  first  circus,  an'  my  weddin'-day. 
We  just  got  into  our  seats  when  the  show 
began.  Jim  sat  on  one  end  of  the  row, 
with  Jimmie  next  to  him,  an7  Frankie 
next  to  me.  They  hadn't  found  time  to 
say  much  to  anybody,  either  Jim  or  me, 
their  mouths  was  open  so  much  of  the 
time.  I  had  'em  leave  their  coats  in  the 
buggy,  'cause  it  was  so  hot,  but  they  had 
to  have  their  shoes  on  to  keep  from  bein' 
hurt  when  they  was  stepped  on.  So  they 
was  fairly  comfortable. 

"We  all  enjoyed  the  show.    It  was  the 

[  35  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


first  big  one  I'd  ever  seen,  an'  Jim  was 
kind  o'  gettin'  acquainted  with  his  boys  a 
little.  He  seemed  kind  o'  su'prised  to  hear 
some  of  the  things  Jimmie  could  tell 
about  the  animals  in  the  menagerie.  Read 
'em  in  a  book  at  school,  an'  remembered 
'em,  too.  I  thought  the  boys  would  split 
laughin'  at  the  clowns,  an'  I'd  set  an' 
watch  the  boys  half  the  time,  an'  Jim 
some,  an'  the  show  the  rest.  I  see  pretty 
near  ev'rything,  but  it  looked  kind  o' 
different  lookin'  at  it  from  the  stand- 
point of  a  stepmother  with  two  boys  to 
raise. 

"Finally,  when  the  trained  dogs  come 
on,  Frankie  could  hardly  stand  it.  I  was 
lookin'  at  somethin'  goin'  on  in  one  ring, 
an'  Jimmie  was  talkin'  to  his  pa,  so 
Frankie,  when  he  see  them  little  dogs  on 
I  36  ] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


the  platform  in  front  of  him,  he  says,  'Just 
look  at  'em,  Jimmie,'  but  Jimmie  was 
busy,  so  he  turns  to  me,  'Just  look  at  'em.' 
I  was  busy  lookin'  at  somethin'  else,  so  he 
grabs  my  hand,  an'  says,  'Just  look  at  them 
dogs,  ma/  That  brought  me  to,  an'  I 
turned  toward  him,  but  I  see  he'd  noticed 
what  he'd  said,  an'  he  looked  kind  o' 
sheepish,  and  didn't  look  at  me,  so  I  per- 
tended  not  to  notice  what  he'd  said,  an' 
pretty  soon  he  felt  all  right  again.  In  a 
minute  it  slipped  out  again  when  he  see 
the  dogs  tumblin',  an'  thought  I  didn't 
see  'em.  I  was  too  busy  lookin'  at  the 
ring  at  my  end  of  the  tent  but  I  heard  him 
when  he  called  me  that.  An'  after  that 
it  seemed  to  come  as  natural  to  him  as  you 
please. 
"After  while,  the  men  come  'round  an' 

[  37  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


was  sellin'  tickets  for  the  concert  after 
the  show.  Jimmie  loves  music,  an'  he 
asked  his  pa  if  we  was  goin'  to  stay  for 
that.  'It's  only  ten  cents,  pa,'  he  says.  Jim 
said,  'Ask  your  ma,'  an'  Jimmie  turned  to 
me,  an'  says,  'Can  we  stay  for  the  con- 
cert?' I  didn't  hear  him,  'cause  I  was 
lookin'  hard  at  the  girl  swingin'  by  her 
teeth,  an'  he  says  again,  'Ma,  can't  we  stay 
for  the  concert?'  Then  I  told  him,  'Yes,' 
an'  Jim  got  the  tickets. 

"While  we  was  waitin'  after  the  show 
was  over  for  the  concert  to  begin,  we  all 
got  up  to  stretch  ourselves,  'cause  even 
them  reserved  seats  was  kind  o'  hard,  an' 
when  we  sat  down  again,  Jimmie  was 
next  to  me.  He  didn't  have  much  to  say 
while  there  was  any  music  goin'  on,  but  he 
talked  as  fast  as  could  be  whenever  there 
[  38  ] 


The  Weddin'-Trip 


was  anything  else  on  the  platform,  an' 
maybe  it  was  wrong,  but  I  was  always 
lookin'  some  other  way  or  somethin'  so 
he  had  to  say  ev'rything  over  an'  say  'Ma' 
to  catch  my  attention.  I  kind  o'  liked  to 
hear  the  sound  o'  that. 

"Well,  after  while,,  the  whole  thing 
was  over,  an'  though  we  tried  to  stop  in 
the  menagerie  tent  to  look  at  the  animals, 
they  drove  us  out  of  there,  an'  we  walked 
down  the  street  to  where  the  team  was. 
The  boys  an'  their  pa  hitched  up,  an'  we 
started  home.  As  soon  as  the  boys  climbed 
into  the  buggy  I  told  'em  to  take  off  their 
shoes  an'  rest  their  feet,  so  they  wouldn't 
be  so  sore  they  couldn't  walk  on  'em  the 
next  day.  Frankie  was  ridin'  with  me, 
an'  Jim  and  Jimmie  was  in  the  front  seat. 
The  horses  was  a  little  too  excited  for 

[  39  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


Jimmie  to  handle,  an'  besides  it  would  be 
gettin'  dark  before  we  got  home,  an'  Jim 
would  have  to  drive  then.  We  opened  up 
the  basket,  an'  then  the  boys  ate  when  they 
could  find  time  between  their  talk,  an'  we 
had  a  mighty  happy  time  for  awhile. 
Then  I  noticed  Frankie  wasn't  sayin'  so 
much,  an'  I  slid  my  arm  around  him 
where  he  sat  up  stiff  an'  half  asleep,  bob- 
bin' around  with  the  joltin'  of  the  buggy. 
Pretty  soon  he  snuggled  down  next  to  me, 
an'  was  sound  asleep,  an'  I'd  feel  him  sigh 
once  in  awhile,  he  was  so  tired  an'  ex- 
cited. An'  I  could  almost  guess  what  his 
dreams  was,  for  my  head  was  runnin' 
over  full  of  pink  an'  green  girls,  an'  big 
bears,  an'  weddin'-rings,  an'  cute  little 
dogs,  an'  bands,  an'  'Get  your  concert 
tickets,'  an'  'Lemo,  lemo,  ice-cold  lemo!' 
[  40  ] 


The  Wed  din' -Trip 


After  awhile  Jimmie  dozed  off,  an'  we 
drove  on  in  quiet.  The  teams  ahead  an' 
behind  turned  off,  one  by  one,  an'  soon  we 
was  left  alone  on  the  road.  I  was  half 
dozin'  myself  as  I  hugged  Frankie  up 
close  to  me,  an'  Jim  was  noddin'  on  the 
front  seat. 

"At  last,  the  horses  turned  out,  an' 
stopped  in  front  of  a  gate.  Jim  climbed 
out,  wakin'  Jimmie  in  doin'  so,  an'  we 
drove  up  to  a  house.  Jim  got  out  again, 
handed  the  lines  to  Jimmie,  an'  said, 
'Hold  'em,  I'll  be  out  in  a  minute.'  He 
lifted  Frankie  down,  an'  the  boy  waked 
up  as  his  feet  struck  the  ground.  Then 
Jim  unlocked  the  door,  an',  scratchin'  a 
match,  lit  the  lamp.  Frankie  came  in  with 
me,  an'  with  his  eyes  about  half  shut, 
started  for  the  stairs.  As  he  opened  the 

1 41  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


door,  he  said,  'Goo'  night,  ma;'  then  I 
heard  him  stumblin'  up  the  steps. 

"I  dropped  into  a  rockin'-chair,  for  I 
was  dead  tired.  It's  no  small  day's  work 
for  a  woman  of  my  age  to  ride  twenty-five 
miles,  get  married,  an'  go  to  the  circus  all 
in  one  day. 

"Pretty  soon  Jimmie  came  in  just  ahead 
of  his  pa,  an'  he  dropped  his  shoes  in  the 
corner,  threw  his  hat  on  a  chair,  an'  with 
the  words,  'Goo'  night,  pa,  goo'  night, 
ma,'  he  stumbled  up  the  stairs  after 
Frankie.  Then  Jim  came  in  an'  dropped 
into  a  chair,  an'  pulled  off  his  shoes. 
'Well,  I  guess  our  weddin'-trip's  over,' 
he  says." 


[42 


CHAPTER    III 

"DESPERIT'  REMEDIES" 


WELL,  well,  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 
Come  right  in  an'  take  off  your  things. 
You're  well,  ain't  you?  You're  lookin' 
pretty  well.  Seems  like  I  ain't  seen 
nobody  for  weeks.  Just  the  boys  an'  Jim 
to  talk  to,  now  the  hired  man's  gone.  An' 
the  boys  ain't  been  just  the  most  happy 
folks  the  last  while.  They've  been  feelin' 
kind  o'  sick.  What's  the  matter?  Oh, 
nothin'  serious.  But  I've  been  settin'  here 
chucklin7  to  myself  just  a-thinkin'  how 
the  two  o'  'em  got  their  come-uppance. 
You  know  when  I  came  here  when  we 

[43  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


was  married,  the  boys  (they're  fourteen 
an'  twelve),  seemed  to  feel  all  right 
toward  me,  an'  called  me  (Ma,'  an'  I  like 
'em  real  well.  But  you  see  while  Jim 
didn't  have  nobody  but  hired  men 
around,  the  boys  had  been  kind  o' 
neglected,  an'  I  noticed  somethin'  was  up 
soon's  I  come  here. 

"Pretty  soon,  one  day  I  smelled  t'bacco 
on  Jimmie's  clo'es.  The  hired  man  wasn't 
here  then,  an'  the  boy  hadn't  been  off  to 
the  neighbours,  though  one  or  two  of  the 
neighbours'  boys  had  been  over  here,  an' 
Jim  don't  smoke,  so  I  knew  Jimmie  was 
beginnin'.  Well,  I  don't  know  as  you 
knew  it,  but  I  hate  t'bacco.  You  knew  it, 
did  you?  Well— I  made  up  my  mind  to 
let  Jimmie  break  himself  of  smokin'  just 
as  quick  as  I  could.  Didn't  take  me  very 
[  44  ] 


Desperit'  Remedies 


long  either  to  make  up  my  mind  how  to 
do  it.  One  evenin'  (we  didn't  have  no 
help,  you  know)  one  evenin',  Jim  an'  the 
boys  come  home  from  work.  The  hired 
man  was  away  for  a  few  days.  They'd 
been  at  some  light  work  that  day,  so  I 
knew  they  wouldn't  be  so  awful  hungry. 
But  when  they  got  home,  there  I  was  in 
the  kitchen,  settin'  on  the  floor,  moanin' 
with  the  earache.  I'd  started  to  get  sup- 
per, an'  had  just  got  it  where  nobody  else 
couldn't  take  hold  of  it  an'  get  nothin'. 
You  know  how  supper  is,  or  any  meal. 
If  you  leave  it  at  just  the  right  time, 
nobody  else  can't  take  hold  an'  get  any- 
thing, without  startin'  all  over  again. 
Well,  I'd  just  got  to  that  time,  when  the 
earache  come  on. 

"The  boys  come  rushin'  in  soon's  they 

[45  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


got  the  horses  unharnessed,  an'  there  I 
was,  settin'  on  the  floor,  with  my  head 
wrapped  up  in  a  flannel  rag.  I  must  have 
been  a  sight,  but  I  didn't  care,  so  long 
as  I  carried  out  my  plans.  There  I  set  an' 
moaned,  an'  groaned,  an'  Jim  an'  the  two 
boys  flew  'round  like  chickens  with  their 
heads  cut  off,  tryin'  to  relieve  me.  But 
there  wa'n't  nothin'  they  could  do  for 
me.  There  was  just  one  thing  I  wanted. 
Just  one  thing  I  knew  would  cure  me. 
Sweet  ile,  you  say?  No,  not  that.  It  was 
to  have  t'bacco  smoke  blowed  in  my  ear. 
Now  Jim  don't  smoke.  He  can't  stand 
the  stuff.  He  got  too  much  once  when 
he  was  little. 

"Right  while  I  was  in  the  midst  of  it 
came  a  rap  on  the  door,  an'  thinks  I  to 
myself,  There's  one  of  those  old  ped- 
[46] 


Desperif  Remedies 


dlers.  All  week  when  I've  wanted  some 
new  tins  they  haven't  showed  themselves 
an'  now  when  I  don't  want  nobody  around 
an'  'specially  when  I  don't  want  nobody 
to  come  in  that  can  smoke,  I'll  bet  he's 
come.'  But  it  was  just  a  little  neighbour 
girl  come  over  to  borrow  somethin'. 

"I  kept  a-settin'  there  a-howlin'  an' 
moanin',  an'  sayin',  (I  wish  there  was  a 
man  around  this  place.  Nobody  to  smoke 
when  I  get  the  earache,  an'  it's  the  only 
thing  that'll  cure  it.  If  I  only  had  a  pipe 
— but,  no,  I  can't  blow  in  my  own  ear, 
can  I?  What  am  I  goin'  to  do?'  An'  I 
kept  on  cryin'  an'  moanin'.  Jim  offered 
to  go  for  the  doctor,  but  I  wouldn't  hear 
to  it,  an'  began  scoldin'  about  how  next 
time  I  got  married  I  was  goin'  to  marry 
a  man,  an'  not  an  old  granny  that  was 

[47] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


'fraid  to  smoke  for  fear  of  smellin'  his 
breath  up. 

"Pretty  soon  I  see  Jimmie  tryin'  to 
screw  up  courage  to  say  somethin',  an'  I 
says,  What  is  it,  Jimmie?  What  was  you 
goin'  to  say?'  He  looked  kind  o'  side- 
ways at  his  pa,  an'  says,  'I  got  a  pipe,  but 
I  ain't  got  no  smokinV  Well,  you  skip 
out  in  the  wood-shed,'  says  I,  'an  you'll 
find  a  bag  of  t'bacco  hangin'  on  the 
rafters,  the  middle  one.  I  brought  it 
along  for  sheep-dip.' 

"In  a  minute  he  come  back  with  the 
bag  an7  a  corncob  pipe  he'd  bought  off  the 
hired  man.  The  t'bacco  I'd  smelled  on 
his  clo'es  didn't  smell  as  if  'twere  very 
strong,  an'  I  thought  he  must  have  got 
hold  of  something  mild.  But  there 
wa'n't  nothin'  mild  about  the  stuff  I  had 
[48] 


Desperif  Remedies 


out  there  in  the  wood-shed.  It  smelled 
like  burnin'  rubber,  an'  ol'  boots,  an' 
shoein'  horses.  I  wrapped  my  head  up 
tight,  except  just  the  one  ear,  so's  I 
couldn't  smell  the  awful  stuff,  an'  Jimmie 
started  out  bravely,  but  I  wasn't  relieved 
till  I  see  that  the  boy  was  gettin'  all  he 
could  stand,  an'  just  a  little  more.  Then 
I  come  'round  pretty  quick,  an'  flew 
'round  an'  got  supper,  an'  called  'em  in. 
They'd  gone  out  to  do  the  chores,  then. 
But  Jimmie  didn't  come.  What  was  the 
matter,  you  say?  Oh,  I  knew  what  was 
the  matter  with  him,  an'  soon  as  I  could, 
I  started  out  to  find  him. 

"I  found  him  in  the  barn,  doubled  up 
on  a  pile  of  sacks.  He  didn't  have  strength 
enough  to  tell  me  to  go  away,  but  I  knew 
he  wanted  to.  It  wasn't  dark  yet,  so  I 

[49  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


could  still  see  what  he  looked  like.  An' 
I  knew  by  his  looks  that  the  earache 
wasn't  the  only  thing  that  t'bacco  had 
cured.  I  never  see  such  a  lookin'  boy. 
You  know  how  freckled  Jimmie  is.  Well, 
all  I  saw  was  those  copper-coloured 
freckles  of  his  on  a  kind  o'  olive-green 
background.  You've  heard  of  people 
turnin'  green  with  envy.  Well,  Jimmie's 
wasn't  envy. 

"As  you  can  guess,  Jimmie  wasn't  very 
good  company  for  several  days,  an'  he 
ain't  acted  just  the  same  since.  I  think  it's 
an  improvement.  He  never  suspected  me, 
though,  an'  I  heard  him  tellin'  the  new 
hired  man  the  other  day  that  he  wasn't 
goin'  to  smoke.  He  guessed  if  his  pa 
could  get  along  all  his  life  without 
smokin'  he  could.  An'  he  guessed  his  pa 
[  50  ] 


Desperit'  Remedies 


was  just  as  good  as  anybody's  pa,  smoke 
or  no  smoke.  Then  I  knew  he'd  broke 
himself. 

"I  didn't  worry  about  Frankie.  He's 
the  littlest  one.  He's  twelve.  I  kind  o' 
thought  when  the  time  come  for  Frankie 
to  learn  to  smoke  I  could  let  him  break 
himself  like  Jimmie  did.  If  not  the  same 
way,  some  other  just  as  good.  There's  lots 
of  ways  for  doin'  things  when  your  whole 
heart's  set  on  doin'  'em.  Now  Frankie  is 
always  snoopin'  'round.  He  never  used 
to  come  into  the  kitchen  when  there  was 
anythin'  b'ilin'  on  the  stove  but  what  he'd 
lift  the  cover  to  see  what  it  was.  That  is, 
when  I  didn't  see  him.  Of  course,  he 
stopped  pretty  quick  when  I  see  him. 

"One  day  about  a  week  after  Jimmie 
got  his  fill  of  t'bacco,  Jim  heard  Frankie 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


tellin'  the  hired  man  that  he  bet  he  could 
smoke  an'  not  get  sick  like  Jimmie  did. 
Jim  told  me  an'  I  knew  it  was  time  to  let 
Frankie  break  himself  of  the  t'bacco 
habit.  Of  course,  I  won't  break  people 
of  their  habits;  if  a  body  can't  break  a 
habit  himself,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  break  it 
for  him.  Oh,  yes,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to 
help  him,  but  I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  do 
the  breakin'. 

"Well,  I  smelled  t'bacco  on  Frankie's 
clo'es  one  day,  an'  I  knew  the  time  had 
come.  So  that  night  just  before  supper, 
when  he  came  runnin'  in  from  the  barn,  I 
happened  to  be  in  the  butt'ry,  so  he  didn't 
see  me,  an'  he  spied  a  kittle  on  the  stove, 
b'llin'  away,  with  the  cover  tight  down 
over  it.  I  wasn't  lookin',  so  Frankie  ups 
an'  lifts  the  cover,  an'  sticks  his  nose  down 
[  52  ] 


Desperit'  Remedies 


to  smell.  Now,  of  course,  I  might  have 
put  up  a  sign,  'This  Here  Stuff  is  T'bacco, 
Bern'  B'iled  for  Sheep-Dip,'  but  I  didn't 
think  it  was  necessary  to  advertise  the  f  act, 
an'  besides,  them  that  keeps  their  noses 
out  of  narrow  cracks  don't  usually  get 
'em  pinched.  But  Frankie  certainly  got 
his  pinched,  or  worse,  for  when  I  come 
out  of  that  butt'ry,  there  he  laid  on  the 
floor,  with  his  eyes  shut,  a-hollerin'  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs.  I  got  him  fixed  up,  so  his 
eyes  quit  smartin',  but  by  that  time  the 
t'bacco  steam  began  to  get  in  its  work 
an'  he  was  sicker'n  ever  Jimmie  was. 
Both  of  'em  got  the  dose  on  empty 
stomachs,  too,  so  they  got  it  for  keeps. 
You  know  desperit'  diseases  needs  des- 
perit'  remedies. 

"So   I've  been   a-chucklin'   to   myself 

[  S3  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


ever  since,  thinkin'  how  them  boys  have 
saved  me  all  the  worry  about  their  ever 
gettin'  to  usin'  t'bacco.  Why,  they're 
worse  than  Jim,  now.  They  can't  even 
ride  to  town  behind  a  man  that's  smokin' 
without  bein'  sick. 

"You  know  when  I  first  said  somethin' 
to  Jim  about  their  beginnin'  to  smoke,  he 
says,  Well,  I'll  thrash  it  out  of  'em.  You 
just  let  me  ketch  'em  usin'  the  stuff,  an' 
I'll  fix  'em.'  'Thrash  nothin',  says  I,  an' 
I  ups  an'  tells  him  about  an  old  neighbour 
of  ours  years  ago  that  didn't  believe  in 
thrashin'.  He  said  that  there  wasn't  a 
thing  in  this  world  that  thrashin'  was 
good  for  but  just  to  make  young  ones  go 
an'  do  again  the  thing  they  was  bein' 
thrashed  for  doin'.  This  old  man  had  a 
son  named  Joe,  the  laziest  boy  I  ever  set 
[  54  ] 


Desperit'  Remedies 


eyes  on.  He  wouldn't  work.  Money 
couldn't  hire  him  to  work,  except  just 
when  he  wanted  to.  Finally  the  old  man 
says,  'Joe,  I'm  goin'  to  make  a  gentleman 
out  of  you.  From  now  on  you're  not  to  do 
one  stroke  of  work,  an'  if  you  do,  I'll 
thrash  you.'  Well,  Joe  forgot  that,  an' 
one  day  when  the  whole  farm  was  hustlin' 
to  get  in  some  hay  before  it  rained,  the 
boy  went  out  to  the  field  to  help.  The  old 
man  see  him  at  work,  an'  he  come  down 
the  field  on  the  run.  'See  here,'  he  says, 
'didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  work?  You'll 
spoil  your  clo'es,  an'  get  your  hands  all 
rough.  Remember  what  I  told  you?'  An' 
he  took  that  boy  over  to  the  fence  corner, 
an'  if  he  didn't  tan  his  hide,  I'll  miss  my 
guess.  But  it  didn't  do  no  good.  Next 
week  his  brother  an'  him  was  goin'  fishin', 
[  55  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


an'  Joe  pitched  in  an'  helped  his  brother. 
The  old  man  caught  him  again,  an'  Joe 
was  sore  for  a  week.  That  made  Joe  mad, 
an'  he  began  to  work  on  the  sly  just  to 
show  his  pa  he  could  work  if  he  wanted 
to.  You  know  the  old  man  would  see  the 
work  done,  an'  know  that  the  hired  man 
didn't  do  it,  an'  Bill — that  was  Joe's 
brother — didn't  do  it,  so  Joe  must  have 
done  it,  but  he  wouldn't  thrash  him  un- 
less he  caught  him  at  it,  so  Joe  got  to  doin' 
more  an'  more  without  the  old  man's 
findin'  it  out,  an'  a  boy  can  do  a  heap 
when  he  thinks  he  oughtn't  to,  so  the  old 
man  got  more  work  out  o'  him  than  if  he 
was  s'posed  to  be  workin'.  An'  I  guess  the 
old  man  got  so  he  couldn't  see  quite  so 
sharp  when  he  found  the  boy  was  really 
workin'.  But  anyway  he  kept  up  the 
[  56] 


Desperit'  Remedies 


thrashin'  long  enough  so  Joe  turned  out 
one  of  the  best  workers  I  ever  see,  an' 
he's  got  just  about  the  best-lookin'  farm 
around  the  whole  county,  now.  I  don't 
know  whether  he  keeps  to  his  father's 
way  of  bringin'  up  boys,  or  not,  but  he's 
got  a  big  family  of  'em. 

"Well,  I  told  Jim  this,  an'  he  agreed  to 
let  me  have  my  way,  an'  so  far  as  I  can 
see,  it  came  out  all  right,  for  habits  is  like 
horses.  Them  that  others  breaks  for  you 
ain't  half  so  well  broke  as  them  you  break 
for  yourself." 


[57] 


vt^,  ^ -^— ^— ^ .— ^— ^^-^-SfaSg. 

CHAPTER   IV 

A  CURE  FOR  STRIKES 

GOOD  mornin'.  Thought  I'd  just 
drop  in  an'  set  an'  visit  awhile.  Jim  had 
to  come  to  town  to  stay  all  day,  an'  the 
boys  is  off  to  school,  so  I  didn't  have 
nobody  to  talk  to,  nor  much  work  to  do. 
Work?  Why,  I've  got  it  all  arranged  so 
my  work  ain't  very  heavy.  We  don't  keep 
a  girl,  but  the  hired  man's  gone  now,  an' 
there's  just  four  of  us  to  cook  for.  An' 
the  boys  helps.  Goodness,  yes.  Before 
we  was  married,  Jim  an'  I  talked  it  over. 
Yes,  I  s'pose  I  did  do  most  of  the  talkin', 
but  anyway,  we  agreed  that  the  boys  was 
[  58  ] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


to  help  in  the  house  all  they  could,  when 
we  didn't  have  a  hired  girl.  Jim  said 
they  wouldn't,  but  gracious,  Jim  don't 
know  his  own  boys  well  enough  to  know 
what  they'll  do,  an'  what  they  won't  do. 
I  never  have  any  trouble  gettin'  'em  to  do 
things.  So  now,  they're  lots  of  help. 

"I  tell  you  it  pays  to  start  right  when 
you're  gettin'  married.  That's  one  trouble 
with  gettin'  married  young,  'specially 
for  girls.  They  don't  know  what  they 
want,  nor  how  to  get  it  if  they  do  know. 
But  you  take  a  middle-aged  woman  an' 
let  her  get  married,  an'  she's  a  mighty 
poor  stick  if  she  don't  know  just  what  she 
wants,  an7  get  it.  I'll  admit  there's  one 
advantage  in  gettin'  married  young.  If 
you're  goin'  to  be  happy,  you'll  be  happy 
lots  longer,  but  then,  there's  this  disadvan- 

[59] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


tage,  if  you  ain't  goin'  to  be  happy,  you've 
got  that  much  more  time  to  be  miserable 
in.  But  when  you  get  married  at  middle 
age,  if  you're  goin'  to  be  happy,  you  can 
be  twice  as  happy,  'cause  you  know  better 
how  to  be  happy,  an'  you  know  enough  to 
have  an  easier  time,  an'  if  you  ain't  goin' 
to  be  happy,  you  won't  be  quite  so  mis- 
erable as  if  you  didn't  know  how  to  have 
an  easy  time,  an'  you  won't  be  miserable 
so  long. 

"Yes,  I  set  the  boys  to  work  the  first  day 
after  I  came.  I  told  Jimmie  he  could  help 
with  the  dishes  an'  cookin'  mornin's  an' 
noons  the  first  week,  an'  Frankie  would 
help  at  night,  an'  they  could  turn  about 
the  next  week.  First  thing  Jimmie  said, 
Why,  I  never  helped  cook  in  my  life,  an' 
I  don't  like  to  wash  dishes.'  Well,'  said  I, 
[  60] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


'who's  goin'  to  do  the  cookin'  an'  washin' 
dishes  when  you  boys  goes  campin' 
over  to  the  lake?'  Now  the  boys  had 
never  been,  an'  I  knew  they  was  just  crazy 
to  go.  'Oh,  ma,'  they  says,  'can  we  go? 
Goody!'  It  was  a  day's  ride  to  the  lake, 
an'  they  couldn't  ketch  nothin'  when  they 
did  get  there,  but  some  of  the  older  boys 
of  the  neighbourhood  had  been  several 
years  before,  an'  the  young  boys  was  all 
crazy  to  go.  Says  I,  'What  I  counted  on, 
was  that  you  an'  Frankie  would  learn  to 
cook  so  that  when  you  do  go  you  won't 
have  to  eat  cold  victuals  all  the  time,  like 
the  boys  did  last  time.  An'  you  know  the 
cook's  always  boss  on  a  campin'  trip.  An' 
your  pa  said  that  he  thought  in  August 
sometime  you  could  be  spared.' 

"Well,  I  didn't  have  no  more  trouble 
[  61  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


with  them  boys  about  cookin',  an'  now, 
they  always  do  the  dishes.  It's  all  in  get- 
tin'  boys  started  right,  an'  then  keepin' 
'em  on  the  right  track  by  keepin'  some- 
thin'  ahead  to  look  forward  to.  Only  rea- 
son any  boy  ever  got  off  the  track  is  just 
'cause  his  folks  didn't  care  enough,  or 
didn't  have  gumption  enough,  to  keep 
him  lookin'  forward  to  somethin'  all  the 
time.  It's  easy  enough  to  drive  a  hungry 
cow  behind  a  wagon-load  of  feed  if  she 
don't  get  a  chance  to  ketch  up,  only  you 
got  to  watch  out  that  somebody  else  don't 
give  her  the  feed  you  ought  to  give  her. 

"Then,  too,  I  been  gettin'  some  new 
things  to  make  my  work  easier.  Washin'- 
machine,  an'  flat-irons,  an'  a  lot  of  things. 
Before  we  was  married,  when  Jim  was 
talkin'  about  his  bank-account,  I  says, 
[  62  ] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


'When  you  go  to  town  for  the  license,  just 
bring  along  another  check-book.  Then 
when  I  need  anything  I  won't  have  to  ask 
you  for  money.'  Course  when  I  got 
married,  half  he  had  was  mine,  an'  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  skimp  myself  an'  try  to  get 
along  on  the  butter  an'  egg  money,  like  so 
many  women  do. 

"That's  another  trouble  with  gettin' 
married  young.  The  poor  girls  know  how 
hard  up  they  be,  an'  that  both  of  'em  have 
to  skimp  an'  save  all  they  can,  an'  so  the 
fool  wife  does  the  housework,  an'  makers 
the  butter,  an'  tends  the  garden,  an' 
maybe  feeds  the  pigs,  an'  always  gethers 
the  eggs,  an'  takes  care  of  the  chickens  an' 
turkeys,  an'  picks  the  fruit,  an'  cans  it, 
an'  maybe  helps  milk,  an'  cut  an'  husk 
corn,  all  so's  to  save  money,  an'  how  much 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


does  her  husband  skimp  himself?  He  has 
a  hired  man  to  help  him,  an7  for  his  wife 
to  do  the  cookin'  an'  washin'  for,  an'  he 
works  fourteen  or  sixteen  hours  a  day. 
An'  he  always  has  money  to  spend  when 
he  goes  to  town.  But  his  wife!  How 
much  money  does  she  get  to  spend?  Just 
what  comes  from  the  butter  an'  eggs,  an' 
that  she  takes  to  run  the  house  on.  Instead 
of  turnin'  that  money  into  the  common 
fund,  an'  then  drawin'  out  what  she  needs, 
she  gets  along  on  that  little  egg  an'  butter 
money,  an'  the  man  gets  into  the  bad  habit 
of  thinkin' that's  all  she  needs.  So  it  comes 
harder  an'  harder  to  get  anything  more 
than  that  out  of  him.  An'  by  an'  by  when 
the  children  come,  there's  the  children's 
clo'es,  an'  her  own,  an'  dozens  of  other 
things,  all  to  come  out  of  that  egg  an'  but- 
[  64] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


ter  money.  Well,  you've  seen  so  many 
cases  just  that  way  that  I  don't  need  to  tell 
you  about  'em. 

"Now  I  made  up  my  mind  that  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  depend  on  the  egg  an' 
butter  money.  That  was  goin'  into  the 
common  fund,  an'  the  household  ex- 
penses was  comin'  out  of  that  same  fund. 
Oh,  it  was  new  for  Jim,  but  you  know 
there's  two  times  to  get  a  man  to  agree  to 
things,  an'  of  course,  after  he's  agreed  to 
'em,  it's  a  poor  stick  of  a  woman  that  can't 
make  him  hold  to  'em.  One  of  the  two 
times  is  when  he's  just  married.  That 
does  for  young  married  men.  The  other 
time's  when  he's  courtin'.  That's  the 
time  to  get  things  out  of  widowers.  So 
Jim  an'  I  understood  just  how  things  was 
goin'  to  be  run  before  I  even  set  the  day. 

[  65  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


I  told  him  that  when  I  said  what  he 
should  plant  on  the  'hill  forty,'  or  the 
'corner  eighty,'  he  could  tell  me  how  to 
run  things  in  the  house,  an'  not  before. 
Henpeckin'  him?  Not  much!  An' 
besides,  if  a  man  is  henpecked  right,  he 
don't  know  it,  an'  thinks  it's  fun. 

"Yes,  both  the  boys  is  in  school  now. 
You  thought  Jimmie  wasn't?  Oh,  that 
didn't  last  long.  Come  school-time  last 
month,  an'  Jimmie  said  he  wasn't  goin' 
to  school.  Just  had  a  girl  for  school- 
teacher, an'  he'd  stay  out  an'  help  'round 
the  farm,  an'  then  go  the  winter  term.  So 
Frankie  went  alone  the  first  day.  The 
next  day  was  rainy  an'  Frankie  started 
out  alone.  Soon's  the  breakfast  dishes 
was  cleared  up,  I  says  to  Jimmie,  'I'm 
glad  it's  rainin'  to-day.  You  can't  do 
[  66  ] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


anything  outdoors,  an'  I  want  you  to  help 
me.'  It  was  just  pourin',  but  Jim  had  to 
go  to  town  on  business,  an'  so  we  was  left 
alone.  We  started  up-stairs  to  that  big 
room  over  the  kitchen,  you  know.  It  had 
been  used  for  a  storeroom,  an'  my  plan 
was  to  clean  that.  We  moved  ev'rything 
out,  an'  then  we  started  to  scrubbin', 
down  on  our  hands  an'  knees.  Queer 
time  to  scrub,  you  say?  Oh,  we  never 
used  to  go  in  there,  so  it  wouldn't  get 
tracked  up,  an'  I  says  to  Jimmie,  'This'll 
make  a  fine  place  to  spread  out  the  feath- 
ers from  the  beds  to  air,  while  we  wash 
the  ticks.'  Well,  just  after  we  got  started 
scrubbin',  I  had  to  go  down  an'  tend  to 
my  bread,  an'  I  left  Jimmie  down  on  his 
hands  an'  knees,  scrubbin'  away.  There's 
one  good  thing  about  both  those  boys. 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


Like  their  pa  in  that;  if  they  once  get 
started  doin'  a  thing  they  don't  stop  till 
they  get  it  done.  I  had  just  got  my  bread 
in  the  oven,  when  I  heard  a  shout  outside. 
I  stepped  out  on  the  porch,  an'  there  was 
one  of  the  neighbours'  boys  on  horseback. 
'Got  anything  to  send  to  the  boys?'  says 
he.  'I've  been  to  town  an'  got  to  go  right 
by  the  schoolhouse  on  the  way  home.' 
There's  just  Frankie,'  says  I.  'Jimmie 
didn't  want  to  go  this  term.'  'Oh,  I 
didn't  know.  I  hain't  started  yet. 
Where's  Jimmie?'  says  he.  I  told  him 
he  was  doin'  some  scrubbin'  for  me,  an' 
you  ought  to  have  seen  that  boy's  face.  It 
broadened  out  into  a  grin  like  an  apple, 
cracked  in  roastin'.  Then  he  said,  'Well, 
I  thought  maybe  you'd  been  bakin'  an' 
wanted  to  send  somethin'  to  the  boys.  It's 
[  68  ] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


quit  rainin'  now.  But — Jimmie  scrub- 
bin'!'  An'  he  turned  that  horse  an'  went 
off  down  that  road  lickety-larrup. 

"Pretty  soon,  down  come  Jimmie,  an' 
I  must  say  he'd  done  the  scrubbin'  well. 
I  had  a  good  dinner  ready,  an'  we  had 
a  right  good  time  there  that  afternoon. 
It  was  rainin'  harder  again,  an'  Jimmie 
read  to  me  while  I  worked.  Jimmie  had 
rather  read  any  time  than  eat,  but  they 
didn't  have  a  single  thing  'round  that 
house  to  read  when  I  went  there.  I  had 
some  things  packed  away  in  my  boxes, 
though,  but  I  hadn't  unpacked  hardly 
anything  yet.  I  got  out  some  papers, 
though,  for  Jimmie,  an'  he  reads  fine  for 
a  boy  that  ain't  had  no  more  chance  than 
he  has. 

"After  while,  Frankie  come  home,  an' 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


if  he  wasn't  a  sight!  Mud  from  head  to 
foot,  all  over  his  clo'es,  an'  all  the  buttons 
off  his  waist,  an'  most  of  'em  off  his  pants. 
I  asked  him  what  was  the  matter,  an'  he 
said,  'Bill  Jones'  (he  was  the  neighbour 
boy  that  stopped  at  the  house)  'Bill  Jones 
come  to  school  this  afternoon  an'  said 
that  Jimmie,  our  Jimmie,  couldn't  come 
to  school  'cause  he  had  to  stay  at  home  an' 
scrub  the  floors.  I  told  him  he  lied,  an' 
he  said  he  see  him.  An'  then  he  tried  to 
lick  me  for  sayin'  he  lied,  but  he  couldn't, 
an'  he's  bigger'n  me,  too.' 

"Then  Jimmie  says,  'Oh,  ma,  was  that 
who  you  was  talkin'  to  this  mornin'?  I 
was  goin'  to  ask  you  an'  I  forgot.  You 
didn't  tell  him  what  I  was  doin',  did 
you?'  I  told  him  I  had,  an'  he  felt  so  bad 
he  almost  cried.  Just  then  their  pa  come 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


home,  an'  so  they  had  plenty  to  do  with 
the  chores  an'  unharnessin',  an'  all. 

"Next  mornin'  Jimmie  come  in  when 
Frankie  was  gettin'  ready  for  school  an' 
said,  'Ma,  put  up  dinner  for  me,  too.  I 
ain't  goin'  to  have  the  boys  think  I  have 
to  stay  at  home  to  do  scrubbin'.'  I  went 
an'  got  out  a  tablet  an'  lead-pencil  I'd 
been  savin'  an'  put  'em  with  his  dinner- 
pail,  an'  when  he  started  lookin'  for  his 
slate,  I  said,  'You'd  better  not  take  that. 
I  hear  this  teacher's  goin'  to  have  a  class 
in  algebray.  You've  been  clear  through 
your  arithmetic,  hain't  you?'  'Yes, 
twice,'  says  he.  He  likes  that  best  of  any- 
thing except  just  readin'.  'Well,  then,  if 
you're  studying  algebray,  an'  I  guess  you 
might  as  well  go  into  the  class  if  they  is 
one,  you  don't  want  to  be  usin'  a  slate  an' 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


pencil  like  a  primer  class  boy.  An'  I  got 
an  old  algebray  in  one  of  my  boxes  if  they 
use  that  kind.' 

"After  he'd  got  started  I  called  him 
back  an'  told  him  that  seein's  the  next 
week  Tuesday  was  his  birthday,  if  he 
wanted  half  a  dozen  of  the  neighbours' 
boys  to  come  to  spend  the  evenin',  I'd 
make  candy.  I  guess  they  hadn't  ever 
made  much  of  birthdays. 

"Then  he  started  off  on  the  run,  to 
catch  up  with  Frankie,  an'  I  guess  he  run 
all  the  way  to  school,  for  he  was  one  of  the 
first  ones  there,  the  teacher  told  me  after- 
ward, an'  when  she  got  there  he  was 
holdin'  one  of  the  biggest  boys  down  on 
the  ground  (he'd  finished  with  Bill 
Jones)  an'  was  sayin',  'Yes,  I  was  scrub- 
bin'  yesterday  an'  I  learned  how  to  do  it 
[  72  ] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


so  well  that  you'll  have  to  do  a  lot  of  it 
yourself  to  get  clean.'  Then  he'd  scrub 
the  boy's  face  with  mud,  an'  fill  his  ears. 
That  put  an  end  to  the  boys  sayin'  any- 
thing about  scrubbing 

"Well,  the  next  Tuesday  come  'round, 
an'  we  had  an  early  supper,  so's  to  have 
time  to  get  things  ready,  for  the  boys  was 
comin'  early.  Pretty  soon,  they  all  come, 
seven  of  'em,  three  families,  Bill  Jones 
among  'em.  They'd  all  forgotten  or  at 
least  didn't  say  nothin'  about  the  scrub- 
bin'.  I  made  candy,  an'  the  boys  cracked 
nuts,  an'  I  never  see  boys  have  a  better 
time.  After  while,  Jim  went  to  bed,  an' 
the  boys  was  playin'  games  in  the  kitchen, 
so  I  slipped  away.  I  come  back  soon,  an' 
when  the  boys  quieted  down  after  a  game 
of  blind  man's  buff,  I  says,  'Jimmie,  don't 

[73  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


you  want  to  show  the  boys  your  birthday 
present?'  His  eyes  stuck  out.  'That's  so,' 
says  I,  'I  forgot  to  show  it  to  you.  Just 
go  up-stairs.  The  boys  can  go  with  you, 
an'  you'll  find  it  in  the  old  storeroom. 
There's  a  light  up  there.'  They  all 
started,  Jimmie  ahead.  I  heard  'em  all 
talkin'  all  the  way  up  the  stairs.  Then  I 
heard  the  door  opened  into  the  store- 
room. Not  a  sound  for  a  second,  then  if 
Babel  itself  wasn't  turned  loose,  I  don't 
know  what  it  was. 

"What  they  saw  when  they  opened  the 
door,  was  that  great  big  room,  with  a 
little  fire  in  the  fireplace ;  an'  on  one  side 
of  the  room  was  a  bed,  with  a  rug  in 
front.  In  front  of  the  fireplace  was  a  lit- 
tle round  table  with  a  good  big  lamp  on 
it  all  lit,  an'  an  easy  rockin'-chair  beside 
[  74] 


A  Cure  for  Strikes 


it.  On  the  table  was  a  book,  'Robinson 
Crusoe,'  opened  at  the  picture  of  Crusoe's 
findin'  the  footprint,  an'  on  a  little  book- 
case on  the  wall  was  two  or  three  others, 
Wood's  Natural  History,'  an'  'Arabian 
Nights,'  an'  'Pilgrim's  Progress,'  an' 
'Treasure  Island,'  an'  some  old  back 
numbers  of  Youth's  Companion,  sewed 
together.  On  the  floor  beside  the  fire- 
place was  a  wood-box,  on  one  side ;  on  the 
other  was  a  box  of  nuts,  with  a  hammer 
stickin'  up  in  it,  an'  an  old  flatiron  fas- 
tened up  on  one  corner.  An'  last,  but  the 
first  thing  the  boys  saw,  was  over  the  fire- 
place, a  pair  of  deer  horns  that  used  to 
be  my  brother's,  an'  on  'em  rested  the  rifle 
that  Jimmie  had  been  teasin'  for  so  long. 
Below  that  hung  a  sign,  'This  room  pre- 
sented to  Jimmie  on  his  i5th  birthday.* 

[7$  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"Pretty  soon,  I  heard  the  door  opened 
at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  an'  heard  Jim- 
mie  say,  'Just  look  around,  fellers,  I'll  be 
back  in  a  minute.'  Then  I  heard  him 
come  runnin'  down  the  stairs.  He  come 
runnin'  across  the  kitchen  to  where  I  was 
pickin'  up  an'  cleanin'  the  candy  dishes, 
an'  I  could  see  his  eyes  just  shinin',  an'  all 
he  says  was  just,  'Oh-h-h,  Mother,'  but 
he  put  his  arms  around  my  neck,  an' 
pulled  my  head  down  an'  kissed  me  right 
on  the  lips,  an'  I  felt  more'n  paid  for  all 
the  trouble  I'd  taken." 


[76] 


CHAPTER   V 


"  /"* 
VjOOD  afternoon.     Yes,   I've  come 

to  spend  the  time  while  Jim  does  some 
buyin'  he's  got  to  do.  Why,  I  ain't  seen 
you  since  away  last  fall,  when  I  was  here 
just  after  Jimmie's  birthday.  An'  there's 
so  many  things  happened  since  then,  that 
I  don't  know  just  where  to  begin  to  tell 
you  about  'em.  But  I'll  begin  with  our 
school-teacher,  an'  the  way  things  has 
been  goin'  at  school. 

"You  know,  we  had  a  girl  teacher  last 
fall,  an'  both  the  boys  went,  an'  they  got 
so  they  liked  her  pretty  well.  This  win- 

[  77  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


ter  we  got  a  man  teacher,  couldn't  have 
a  girl  'cause  the  school  has  always  been 
so  tough.  Why,  ev'ry  winter  till  this  one 
for  a  long  time  the  teacher's  been  carried 
out,  an'  that  always  broke  up  the  school. 
An'  I  s'pose  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me  the 
school  would  have  been  busted  up  the 
same  way  this  winter.  But  it  wasn't.  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  our  boys  had  lost 
enough  schoolin'  just  through  the  mean- 
ness of  some  of  the  big  boys,  an'  since  they 
have  only  seven  months  in  the  year,  take 
it  all  in  all,  there's  no  use  of  their  losin' 
any  of  it.  An'  then  it  ain't  very  good  for 
the  boys  an'  girls,  even  if  they  don't  have 
nothin'  to  do  with  the  carryin'  out,  just 
to  see  things  smashed  up  the  way  they 
usually  is.  I  know  I  don't  want  Jimmie 
an'  Frankie  to  see  any  more  of  that  kind 
[78] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


o'  rumpuses.  They're  just  old  enough 
now  so  they're  likely  to  get  the  notion  into 
their  heads  that  any  property,  just  'cause 
it  don't  belong  to  any  one  man,  can  be 
smashed  up  without  it  bein'  wrong,  an7 
I  don't  intend  they'll  see  any  of  that  sort 
of  thing.  They're  pretty  willin'  to  stay 
at  home  nights,  now  Jimmie  has  his  room 
just  the  way  he  wants  it,  an'  they  have 
plenty  to  read.  An'  if  they  stay  in  nights, 
then  school  is  about  the  only  place  for  'em 
to  learn  devilment,  an'  there's  no  need  of 
'em  learnin'  it  there.  I  told  Jim  right 
at  the  start  that  our  boys  was  goin'  to  stay 
at  home  nights  unless  we  all  went  out  to- 
gether. It's  just  as  much  fun  for  the 
young  folks  if  they  an'  their  folks  goes  to- 
gether if  only  they're  used  to  it,  an'  it's 
lots  better  for  their  bringin'  up. 

[  79  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"As  soon  as  school  started,  I  began 
askin'  the  boys  about  the  teacher.  I 
wanted  to  know  what  'kind  of  a  man  he 
was.  It  makes  lots  of  difference  how  the 
boys  has  to  be  treated  at  home  if  you 
know  how  they're  treated  at  school.  An' 
it  pays  for  the  folks  to  know  the  teachers 
they  get  for  their  youngsters.  A  real 
good  man  can  do  more  harm  in  a  school 
with  his  goody-goody  ways,  if  the  folks 
at  home  don't  know  how  to  work  against 
him,  than  a  common  ord'nary  man  can. 
I'd  rather  have  a  common  ord'nary  man, 
bad  as  he  may  be,  that's  real  wide-awake, 
an'  up  to  all  the  young  ones'  meanness, 
than  any  of  your  good,  meek,  half-asleep 
kind,  that  don't  know  how  to  handle  the 
boys,  an'  thinks  they're  all  as  good  as  he 
is.  The  boys  will  get  more  real  meanness 
[80] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


from  tryin'  to  get  ahead  of,  an'  gettin' 
ahead  of,  this  kind,  than  they'll  ketch 
from  one  of  the  other  kind. 

"An'  it  pays  to  know  the  teachers  for 
other  reasons.  Maybe  the  teacher  will 
get  in  a  fix  sometime  an'  just  need  some- 
body that  is  on  the  outside  lookin'  on,  to 
tell  him  a  thing  or  two,  an'  it  don't  never 
hurt  a  young  man  to  have  somebody  older 
to  give  him  a  word  or  two  of  advice.  Of 
course,  the  advice  has  got  to  be  give  to 
him  in  a  nice  little  capsule  of  flattery  or  a 
sugar-coated  pill,  like  other  bitter  medi- 
cines is  give  in  nowadays. 

"Well,  all  I  could  find  out  was  that  the 
teacher  was  one  of  those  young  men  who 
was  savin'  up  money  to  go  to  school  on, 
goin7  to  be  a  doctor,  an'  school-teachin' 
was  the  only  job  he  was  strong  enough  to 
[  8.  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


do  an'  the  quickest  way  to  save  up  money. 
He  wasn't  very  big,  an'  he  wasn't  the  kind 
of  a  man  that  can  bluff  out  a  crowd  of 
great  big  husky  country  boys,  so  I  kind  o' 
feared  for  him.  He  lived  over  to  the 
county-seat,  an'  couldn't  get  home  at  all 
except  when  some  farmer  from  our  way 
was  goin'  in  on  a  Saturday.  I  pumped 
the  boys  ev'ry  night,  an'  tried  to  piece  to- 
gether all  I  could  hear.  I  couldn't  make 
much  out,  an'  so  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd 
see  the  fellow.  On  Saturday  Jim  was 
goin'  to  town  to  the  county-seat,  so  I  told 
Jimmie  Friday  mornin'  to  tell  the  teacher 
that,  if  he  wanted  to  go,  he  should  come 
over  to  our  house  an'  stay  all  night  an'  go 
in  with  Jim  the  next  day.  I  reckoned  I 
could  get  pretty  well  acquainted  with 
him  in  one  evening  an'  then  I  wanted  our 
[  82  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


boys  to  get  to  know  him  better.  I  might 
have  had  him  to  board  at  our  house,  but 
there's  such  a  thing  as  knowin'  the 
teacher  too  well,  an'  I  didn't  want  our 
boys  to  do  that,  so  I  said  I  couldn't  board 
him,  an'  besides  I  didn't  want  the  job  of 
boardin'  another  an'  puttin'  up  a  separate 
dinner  ev'ry  day.  This  havin'  the  teacher 
around  may  be  all  rightj  but  it  ain't  just 
the  same  as  bein'  alone,  an'  the  boys  get 
to  knowin'  him  too  well,  an'  he  knows 
them,  an'  they  feel  that  he  knows  all 
about  when  their  pa  thrashes  'em.  That's 
other  folks'  boys  where  the  teacher 
boards,  not  ours,  'cause  ours  hain't  needed 
it  since  Jim  an'  me  was  married.  An'  it 
kind  o'  hurts  a  boy's  pride  to  have  his  ma 
pet  him  when  the  teacher  is  around,  an' 
yet  he  ought  to  have  a  certain  amount  of 

[  83  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


pettin'.  So  I  didn't  want  him  as  a  regu- 
lar boarder,  but  I  knew  I  could  get  to 
know  him  pretty  well  in  one  evenin',  an'  I 
thought  after  one  week  of  school  he'd  be 
about  ready  to  let  out,  'specially  when  it 
was  the  first  time  he'd  ever  been  away 
from  home. 

"On  Friday  afternoon,  Jim  was  out  in 
the  field  huskin'  corn.  It  was  the  first 
week  in  December,  but  it  was  pretty 
fairly  warm,  an'  he  didn't  have  much  left 
to  do.  Got  most  of  it  done  in  the  warm 
weather  in  October,  but  rains  come  on, 
so  he  had  some  left.  I  went  out  to  take 
him  some  hot  cookies  right  out  of  the 
oven.  He  does  like  'em  so  well,  an'  there 
he  was,  all  alone,  half  a  mile  away  from 
the  house,  an'  it  wasn't  the  warmest  work, 
huskin'  that  frozen  corn,  either.  No,  I 
[84] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


don't  usually  bake  Friday  afternoons,  but 
I  hadn't  noticed  that  the  cookie  jar  was 
empty  till  after  noon  that  day,  an'  the 
boys  always  look  kind  o'  as  if  they  was 
cheated  if  they  don't  find  plenty  of  fresh 
cookies  in  the  jar  when  they  visit  it  when 
they  think  I  don't  know.  An'  I  don't  see 
no  use  of  disappointin'  'em.  They'll 
have  disappointments  enough  in  this 
world  later  on,  without  their  havin'  too 
many  now,  an'  I  ain't  goin'  to  disappoint 
'em  needlessly,  so  I  baked  later  than 
usual. 

"It  was  after  four  before  I  started  out, 
an'  I  stood  there  talkin'  to  Jim  for  some 
time,  an'  after  while  I  see  the  boys 
a-comin'.  There  was  a  little  slender  fel- 
low with  'em,  that  I  knew  must  be  the 
teacher,  an'  I  thought  to  myself,  'How 

[85  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


long  will  he  last  when  Jack  Smith  an' 
Bill  Wood  start  in  to  school?'  Why, 
either  one  of  them  was  twice  as  big  as  he 
was,  an'  he  didn't  look  as  if  he  had  any 
too  much  strength  for  his  size.  But  Bill 
an'  Jack  hadn't  started  in  to  school  yet. 
They  never  did  till  after  the  others  had 
got  nicely  started.  Then  they  came  in  an' 
kept  the  whole  class  back  till  they  got 
ready  to  bust  up  the  school,  but  when  I 
see  him  a-comin'  along  with  my  boys,  not 
lookin'  much  bigger  or  older  than  Jim- 
mie,  I  just  made  up  my  mind  that  he  was 
goin'  to  teach  out  the  term  if  anything  I 
could  do  would  help  him  to  do  it,  an'  I 
was  pretty  sure  I  could  do  somethin'. 

"I  waved  to  the  boys  (Jim  hadn't  got 
away  with  all  the  cookies)   an'  they  all 
climbed  over  the  fence.     I  shook  hands 
[86] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


with  the  teacher  an'  then  gave  'em  all  a 
cookie  apiece,  an'  that  boy  looked  as 
pleased  as  our  boys  did.  We  was  standin' 
there  talkin',  an'  Jim  had  just  thrown 
down  the  last  shock  when  I  see  a  mouse 
run  across  the  ground  under  where  the 
shock  had  been.  The  teacher  saw  it  an' 
quicker'n  I  ever  thought  he  could  move 
he'd  dropped  on  the  ground  in  front  of  it 
an'  caught  it.  He  looked  up  at  me  from 
where  he  was  kneelin',  an'  says,  'This  is  a 
new  one.  I  never  saw  this  kind  before.' 
An'  then  he  went  on  to  tell  an'  show  all 
about  the  little  thing,  that  laid  tremblin' 
in  his  hands.  I  could  see  the  boys  was  in- 
terested, an'  'specially  Frankie,  whose 
eyes  just  shone,  as  the  little  teacher  went 
on  to  tell  how  the  mice  lived  in  the  sum- 
mer an'  winter,  about  their  nests,  an'  what 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


they  lived  on,  an'  how  their  enemies 
chased  'em,  an'  before  he  got  through,  the 
whole  plan  for  breakin'  up  the  carryin'- 
out  scheme  came  to  me.  The  boys  hadn't 
talked  much  on  the  way  home.  Didn't 
have  anything  to  say  to  the  teacher,  an' 
he  felt  a  little  shy  at  goin'  to  a  new  place, 
but  now,  the  three  were  as  friendly  as 
could  be,  an'  we  all  had  a  jolly  time  as  we 
went  home  to  supper  on  the  big  wagon- 
load  of  corn. 

"At  supper  an'  after  supper  I  kep'  him 
a-talkin'  on  outdoor  things,  an'  he 
seemed  to  know  all  about  how  things 
lived  an'  I  could  see  plainer  than  ever 
just  how  he  was  goin'  to  win  his  way 
through  that  term  of  school. 

"The  next  day  after  he  an'  Jim  had 
started  for  town,  I  got  Jimmie  to  tellin' 
[  88  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


about  the  carryin'-out  the  year  before. 
He  didn't  see  it,  nor  Frankie  either, 
'cause  they  had  the  mumps  then,  but  he 
knew  all  about  it,  an'  it  was  just  as  I 
thought.  Bill  Wood  an'  Jack  Smith  al- 
ways came  late  in  the  mornin's,  an'  if  the 
teacher  said  anything,  they  sassed  him, 
an'  finally  they  got  all  the  other  boys  to 
help  carry  him  out  an'  to  keep  him  out 
for  one  day.  That  broke  up  the  school. 
Jimmie  said  that  those  biggest  boys  was 
goin'  to  start  a  week  from  the  next  Mon- 
day, an'  so  I  arranged  my  plans. 

"The  next  week  I  told  Jimmie  an' 
Frankie  together  to  ask  all  the  boys  in 
school  that  was  thirteen  or  over  to  come 
to  our  house  on  Friday  night  to  make 
candy,  an*  I  sent  a  note  to  the  teacher,  too, 
askin'  him.  I  didn't  tell  Jimmie  that 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


I  asked  the  boys  so  they  could  get 
acquainted  with  the  teacher,  'cause  there 
wasn't  no  use  of  scarin'  'em  away.  They 
was  all  glad  enough  to  come.  Ever  since 
Jimmie's  birthday  he'd  had  more  visitors, 
an'  the  boys  always  seemed  to  think  I  was 
different  from  their  own  folks.  Of  course 
I  was,  but  their  folks  ought  to  have  had 
sense  enough  not  to  let  'em  find  it  out.  It 
don't  pay  to  let  your  boys  get  to  thfnkin' 
you  ain't  quite  so  good  to  'em  as  somebody 
else's  folks  is  to  him.  But  most  of  the 
other  folks  never  thought  anything  about 
tryin'  to  keep  the  boys  at  home,  an'  was 
glad  enough  to  get  'em  off  out  of  the 
way. 

"They  all  came,  every  last  one  of  Tem, 
on  Friday  night,  an'  the  teacher,  too,  but 
they  shut  up  like  clams,  an'  so  did  he. 
[  90] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


They  didn't  have  much  to  say  till  we  got 
to  makin'  candy,  an'  then  I  got  him  to 
tellin'  about  how  different  kinds  of  sugar 
is  made.  The  boys  got  kind  o'  interested, 
an'  when  he  switched  off  from  that  an' 
began  tellin'  'em  about  some  fun  he  had 
one  spring  makin'  maple-sugar  in  the  big 
woods  over  beyond  the  county-seat  where 
the  wolves  still  howl  at  night,  an'  the 
farmers  can't  keep  sheep  at  all,  on 
account  of  'em,  I  saw  he  had  the  boys 
where  I  wanted  'em.  Pretty  soon  he 
mentioned  the  birds  in  the  woods  in 
sugar-makin'  time,  an'  I  broke  right  in. 
I  hated  to  spoil  his  story,  but  this  was  just 
the  chance  I  wanted.  I  asked  some  kind 
o'  foolish  questions.  You  know  a  man 
never  feels  like  tellin'  a  woman  anything 
until  she  shows  how  big  a  fool  she  can  be 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


by  askin'  questions  that  don't  mean  any- 
thing, an'  then  he  explains  in  a  toplofty 
way.  Well,  I  wanted  the  boys  to  com- 
bine with  the  teacher  answerin'  me,  an'  I 
got  just  what  I  wanted,  for  they  all  begun 
to  talk  at  once,  an'  went  on  namin'  birds 
that  stayed  all  winter,  an'  got  all  worked 
up.  Then  I  got  'em  switched  off  onto 
somethin'  else,  an'  the  teacher  got  started 
on  that,  an'  they  were  all  breakin'  in  an' 
askin'  questions,  an'  generally  feelin' 
good  an'  friendly  when  I  sprung  my 
planr 

"Says  I,  Why,  these  are  all  new  things 
to  me.  An'  to  most  of  us,  I  guess.  Why 
can't  we  have  a  little  club  to  meet  here 
Friday  nights,  an'  talk  over  this  kind  o' 
things?  Le's  see,  there's  fourteen  of  us 
here.  That'll  make  a  good  number,  an' 
[  92  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


we  can  meet  here,  in  Jimmie's  room,  just 
as  well  as  not.'  Then  Frankie  broke  in, 
'An'  we  can  have  it  secret  an'  have  pass- 
words an'  grips.'  Well,  that  brought  'em 
all  around.  If  you  want  to  get  hold  of  a 
boy  of  the  age  of  them  boys,  just  get  up  a 
club  with  passwords  an'  grips,  an'  badges, 
an'  maybe  a  secret  whistle,  an'  if  all  the 
boys  don't  fall  over  themselves  to  get  in, 
I'll  miss  my  guess. 

"So  we  organized  the  club,  an'  we  give 
it  a  name.  I  can't  tell  you  what  it  is, 
'cause  it's  secret,  but  we,  Jimmie,  an'  Bill 
Jones  an'  me,  made  out  a  constitution, 
an'  made  nominations  for  the  officers. 
Maybe  we  did  have  a  lot  to  do  with  gettin' 
it  runnin',  but  somebody  had  to,  an'  I 
didn't  want  the  boys  to  have  the  idea  that 
the  teacher  had  very  much  to  do  with 

[  93  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


startin'  it.  We  nominated  Eddie  Harris 
for  president.  He  was  one  of  the  quiet 
kind,  but  I  knew  he  belonged  to  the  Good 
Templars,  an'  so  knew  a  little  about  run- 
nin'  such  things.  The  boys,  Bill  an' 
Jimmie,  kicked  at  givin'  it  to  him,  but  I 
told  'em  they  had  to  have  somebody  that 
knew  somethin'  about  runnin'  things  like 
that,  an'  there  wasn't  nobody  else  that 
knew  but  the  teacher  an'  me,  an'  neither 
one  of  us  could  hold  office  accordin'  to 
the  constitution,  nor  vote  neither.  I  kind 
o'  thought  that  since  we  was  goin'  to  have 
an  election  ev'ry  month,  some  of  the  other 
boys  might  get  it  into  their  heads  to  run 
for  president,  an'  they'd  think  since 
Eddie  got  the  office  by  bein'  a  Good 
Templar,  that  they'd  have  to  join  the 
Temple  an'  so  learn  how  to  run  things. 
[  94  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


An'  there  wasn't  one  of  'em  there  that 
'twould  hurt  to  join.  If  they  took  the 
pledge  now  maybe  they'd  stick  to  it,  an'  it 
would  keep  'em  out  o'  mischief  at  least 
while  they  was  in  it.  An'  I  thought 
maybe  the  Temple  could  hold  onto  'em 
when  once  it  got  'em,  an'  that  was  worth 
tryin7. 

"The  constitution  was  adopted  just  as 
we  had  it,  an'  the  officers  elected.  Then 
the  teacher  said  since  we  didn't  have  any- 
thing in  the  constitution  about  badges, 
he'd  like  to  furnish  'em  for  the  club. 
Since  we  were  to  study  birds,  an'  such 
things,  he  knew  of  something  that  would 
be  all  right.  It  wasn't  anything  to  wear, 
but  we  could  carry  'em  in  our  pockets,  an' 
he  didn't  think  anybody  else  would  have 
any  like  'em  around  here.  The  boys  all 

[95  1 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


cheered  him  at  this  offer,  an'  then  I 
made  another  suggestion.  Says  I,  'We've 
made  our  plans  for  a  weekly  meetin'  for 
Friday  nights.  Why  can't  we  have  what 
we  might  call  a  field  meetin'  Sunday 
afternoons  from  three  to  five?  Most  of 
you  will  be  through  your  dinners  after 
church  and  Sunday  school  by  that  time, 
an'  it'll  give  us  two  hours  in  the  woods  an' 
fields,  an'  let  you  all  got  home  in  time  for 
the  chores.  The  teacher  can  tell  us  about 
the  things  we  see,  that  we  don't  know,  'an' 
we  can  start  from  here.'  They  all  finally 
agreed,  though  some  of  'em  thought  their 
folks  might  object,  but  I  knew  if  the  folks 
thought  they  was  with  the  teacher  an'  so 
long  as  they  wasn't  around  in  the  way  at 
home  those  Sunday  afternoons,  it 
wouldn't  make  no  difference  to  the  folks 
[96] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


where  they  was.  Then  the  teacher  said 
he  could  have  the  badges  ready  for  Sun- 
day, 'cause  he  was  goin'  to  town  the  next 
day. ' 

"It  was  pretty  late  that  night  when  the 
meetin'  broke  up.  Must  have  been 
eleven,  an'  I  told  the  boys  to  say  to  their 
folks  that  I  wouldn't  let  'em  stay  that  late 
again.  An'  I  warned  'em  not  to  let  out 
the  secrets  of  the  club  an'  so  they  all  went 
home  feelin'  as  big  as  could  be,  the  whole 
eleven  of  'em,  the  teacher  feelin'  good 
over  the  different  way  the  boys  treated 
him,  an'  the  boys  all  proud  of  bein'  in  the 
club  right  from  the  start,  an'  plannin'  on 
things  they  was  goin'  to  do. 

"All  the  boys  was  on  hand  Sunday 
afternoon,  an'  it  was  a  beautiful  day.  We 
spent  two  hours  in  the  woods,  studyin' 

[97] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


empty  birds'  nests,  an'  tryin'  to  see  how 
many  of  'em  we  could  tell  by  the  way  they 
looked  in  winter,  an'  the  teacher  gave  us 
all  our  badges.  He'd  collected  different 
kinds  o'  coins  once,  an'  he  had  a  lot  of 
those  old  white  cents  with  an  eagle  on 
'em.  You  remember  'em,  don't  you? 
'Bout  war  time,  I  guess.  An'  he  give  each 
of  us  one  of  'em.  Only  one  of  the  boys 
had  ever  seen  one  of  'em,  an'  they  was  all 
as  careful  of  'em.  An'  some  of  the  boys 
was  tellin'  about  brothers  that  was  comin' 
to  school  next  week,  an'  wanted  to  join, 
but  we'd  set  the  limit  on  numbers  at  fif- 
teen who  could  vote,  an'  so  only  three 
could  get  in,  an'  I  advised  the  boys  to  wait 
till  they'd  been  runnin'  a  month  or  so  be- 
fore they  took  in  the  other  three. 
"On  Monday  mornin'  Bill  Wood  an' 
[98] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


Jack  Smith  showed  up  at  school  about 
half-past  ten,  an'  tried  to  take  the  back 
seats  just  like  they  always  had,  but  the 
teacher  told  'em  if  they  came  late  they'd 
have  to  take  seats  farther  front,  'cause  the 
back  seats  was  taken  by  them  who  had 
been  there  right  along.  They  wasn't 
ready  to  do  their  mean  tricks  the  first  day, 
so  they  took  seats  farther  front,  but  they 
tried  their  best  to  stir  things  up  all  week. 
Luckily  it  rained  one  or  two  days  an'  they 
never  pretended  to  go  to  school  except  in 
nice  weather,  so  the  teacher  didn't  have 
them  to  bother  him  all  the  time.  They 
tried  to  lead  the  other  boys  around  like 
they  used  to,  but  they  all  had  so  much  to 
think  about  with  their  club  plans,  an' 
showin'  each  other  their  badges,  an' 

C  99  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


givin'  the  grip,  that  they  didn't  have  no 
time  to  bother  with  these  big  bullies. 

"On  Friday  night  we  laid  out  the  work 
for  the  club  for  the  winter.  The  teacher 
an'  I  had  kind  o'  taken  that  in  hand,  an' 
each  of  the  boys,  or  sometimes  two  to- 
gether, had  somethin'  to  work  up.  Bill 
Jones  an'  one  of  the  other  biggest  boys 
had  a  list  of  all  the  birds  they  saw  in  the 
school  district  in  December;  another  two 
had  to  make  a  list  of  all  the  trees  in  a  lit- 
tle grove  near  the  schoolhouse,  an'  so  on. 
An'  the  teacher  told  'em  that  he'd  met  a 
friend  in  the  county-seat  the  Saturday  be- 
fore, an'  that  this  man  was  goin'  to  s'prise 
the  club  with*  somethin'  if  they  kept  run- 
nin'  in  good  order  for  a  month,  an'  did 
good  work/ 

"On  Sunday  afternoon  we  had  a  big 
[  100  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


storm,  so  we  had  our  field  meetin'  in- 
doors, an'  most  of  the  boys  was  there. ' 

"On  Monday  the  big  boys  who  wasn't 
members  of  the  club  tried  to  stir  up  the 
club  members,  but  they  couldn't  make 
any  headway  at  that,  an'  they  didn't  have 
nerve  enough  to  carry  out  the  teacher 
alone,  an'  they  wasn't  sure  the  boys 
wouldn't  help  the  teacher  instead  of 
workin'  against  him,  so  they  wasn't  very 
good-natured  an'  handled  some  of  the  lit- 
tle fellows  pretty  rough  on  the  way  home 
that  night. 

"On  Tuesday  night  both  of  our  boys 
come  home  lookin'  as  if  they  had  been 
run  through  a  thrashin'-machine,  an' 
when  they  got  over  their  excitement  so 
they  could  tell  about  it,  this  is  what  we 
heard: 

t 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"At  recess  that  afternoon,  when  some 
of  the  club  boys  was  off  in  one  corner 
talkin'  about  club  plans,  an'  showin'  their 
badges,  an'  tryin'  the  grips,  just  to  keep 
'em  in  mind,  one  of  the  big  boys  that  had 
just  come  to  school  walked  over  to  the 
crowd  of  club  boys,  an'  pickin'  out  the 
.littlest  one,  that  happened  to  be  Frankie, 
he  began  goin'  through  his  pockets,  an' 
after  findin'  the  eagle  cent,  he  put  it  in  his 
pocket  an'  walked  off.  Now  Frankie 
ain't  afraid  of  nothin'  that  walks,  an' 
while  I  don't  believe  in  boys  fightin',  I'm 
glad  he  ain't.  So  Frankie,  just  as  the  fel- 
ler stepped  out  the  door,  run  an'  jumped 
up  on  his  back  (he  wouldn't  have  caught 
him  that  way  if  he  could  have  got  him 
any  other),  an  down  they  both  went,  the 
thirteen-year-older  an'  that  big  hulkin' 
[  102  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


seventeen-year-older  in  one  pile.  Jimmie 
heard  Frankie  yell  for  him,  an'  come 
a-runnin',  an'  one  of  the  other  big  boys, 
not  club  members,  come,  too,  an'  then  all 
the  club  boys  come,  an' one  other  outsider, 
an'  they  had  it  hot  an'  heavy  there  for  a 
while.  The  teacher  tried  to  stop  'em,  but 
there  wasn't  any  stoppin'  till  those  three 
big  fellows,  all  that  there  was  there  that 
day,  was  so  completely  licked  that  they 
sneaked  off  home,  givin'  up  Frankie's 
badge  first,  though,  an'  they  never  even 
came  back  for  their  books,  .i 

"That  fight  made  the  folks,  or  some  of 
'em,  at  least,  kind  o'  down  on  the  club,  but 
all  the  boys  came  to  meetin'  just  the  same, 
though  they  wasn't  a  very  good-lookin' 
lot,  with  their  black  eyes,  an'  scratched 
faces,  an'  all  they  could  talk  about  was 
[  103  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


that  fight,  an'  I  knew  if  the  club  didn't 
hold  together  another  day  that  the 
teacher  wouldn't  be  carried  out  that  win- 
ter. 

"But  the  club  did  hold  together,  an' 
when,  after  we'd  been  runnin'  just  a 
month,  the  teacher's  friend  from  town 
come  out  an'  give  a  talk  on  birds,  with 
magic-lantern  pictures,  all  in  our  big 
kitchen,  the  boys  was  the  proudest  lot  of 
youngsters.  An'  the  next  week  when  the 
county  paper  come  out  an'  published  'A 
List  of  Birds  Observed  in  School  District 
No.  6,  Town  of  West  Grove,  during  the 
Month  of  December,  by  Mr.  William 
Jones  and  Mr.  Henry  Williams,'  you 
couldn't  touch  those  boys  with  a  ten-foot 
pole,  unless  you  happened  to  be  in  the 

[  104  ] 


A  Finger  in  the  Pie 


club  yourself,  an'  was  goin'  to  have  your 
own  list  published  soon. 

"An'  our  Sunday  field  days  was  just 
fine,  an'  I  learned  a  lot  about  weeds  in 
winter,  an'  birds  in  winter,  an'  mice,  an' 
all  such  things,  in  winter,  an'  boys  all  the 
time,  just  from  trampin'  'round  the  fields 
with  that  club,  an'  when  along  in  January 
the  teacher  told  us  one  night  that  he 
wouldn't  be  with  us  after  that  term  as  he 
had  a  school  nearer  home  that  paid  better 
for  the  next  term,  but  he'd  be  willin1  to 
come  out  for  Sunday  afternoons  if  the 
boys  wanted  to  keep  up  the  club,  of  course 
they  did,  so  we're  goin'  to  have  our  club 
meetin's  all  spring. 

"An'  the  last  day  of  school,  we're  goin' 
to  have  the  first  exhibition  they've  had  in 
our  district  since  eight  years  ago. 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


Couldn't  have  no  exhibition  last  days 
when  the  last  days  depended  on  the  time 
the  teacher  got  carried  out.  But  now,  the 
G.  O.  C.  of  the  Sixth  School  District, 
Town  of  West  Grove,  will  have  full 
charge  of  an  annual  exhibition  to  be  held 
at  the  schoolhouse  of  that  district  on  the 
third  Friday  in  February,  an'  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  to  come  out  to  visit  for  awhile 
an'  be  there  for  that.  Mr.  William  Jones 
is  president  of  the  club,  an'  has  charge  of 
the  affair,  an'  our  Jimmie  is  goin'  to  be  on 
the  program.  It's  all  a  secret  yet,  but 
you'll  like  it.  Maybe  I  did  plan  it,  now 
you  say  so,  but  don't  you  think  a  mother 
ought  to  have  a  finger  in  the  pie?" 


I  106] 


CHAPTER   VI 

MANAGIN'  JIM 


WHY,  how  do  you  do?  Come  in. 
It  seems  good  to  see  somebody  again,  now 
that  Jim  an'  I's  all  alone.  Oh,  yes,  we've 
been  that  way  ever  since  school  started  up 
in  town.  An'  we  don't  have  the  hired 
man  in  the  house  any  more.  I  told  Jim 
when  we  was  first  married  that  I  thought 
it  was  better  to  get  a  hired  man  that  was 
married  an'  let  him  live  in  the  old  house 
on  the  place,  than  to  have  a  happy-go- 
lucky,  here-to-day-an'-away-to-morrow 
young  fellow,  that  never  would  be 
around  when  we  wanted  him,  an'  would 
[  107  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


always  be  puttin'  the  boys  up  to  tricks,  or 
leadin'  'em  into  mischief  of  some  kind. 
An'  when  I  reminded  him  that  the  boys 
got  to  smokin'  from  the  hired  man,  he 
agreed  with  me,  so  now  we  have  an  old 
settled-down  married  man,  an'  it  saves 
my  work  cookin'  for  an  extry  one,  an' 
then  there's  a  good  workin'  woman  handy 
if  I  need  anybody  to  help  with  the  work. 
Of  course  it  costs  a  little  more,  an'  the 
older  man  maybe  can't  get  quite  so  much 
work  done,  but  what  he  does  do  is  better 
done,  an'  it  makes  lots  of  difference  with 
the  boys  about  meanness,  an'  gettin'  bad 
habits. 

"But  we  don't  see  enough  of  'em  now 

so  we  can  tell  whether  they're  any  meaner 

or   not.     They're   away   from    Monday 

mornin'  till  Friday  night,  ev'ry  week.    I 

[  108  ] 


Managin*  Jim 


had  a  nice  job  gettin'  Jim  to  let  'em  go, 
but  they're  goin',  an'  he's  as  proud  of  'em 
now  as  can  be.  You  see  when  the  school 
started  this  fall  at  home  here,  I  made  up 
my  mind  there  wasn't  no  use  of  the  boys 
goin'.  Our  country  schools  don't  amount 
to  much,  an'  of  course  we  can't  expect 
'em  to  when  we  don't  pay  no  kind  o' 
wages.  Teachers  don't  get  much  more 
than  enough  to  pay  their  board,  an'  so 
anybody  that's  any  good  as  a  teacher,  like 
the  man  we  had  last  winter,  just  quits  an' 
gets  a  town  school  somewhere.  An'  then 
when  boys  gets  along  to  fourteen  an'  six- 
teen like  Frankie  an'  Jimmie,  they  learn 
lots  more  meanness  than  anything  else. 
Of  course,  they  have  time  to,  'cause  them 
that's  regular  has  to  wait  an'  drag  along 
for  them  that  stays  out  half  the  time,  so 
[  109  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


it's  just  as  well  to  get  the  boys  into  town 
school  where  they'll  have  to  hustle  to 
keep  up.  The  main  worth  of  goin'  to 
school  anyway  is  the  hustlin'  to  keep  up. 
It  never  does  the  boy  any  good  to  go  to 
school  that's  way  ahead  of  his  classes  an' 
has  time  to  set  an'  plan  deviltry.  Of 
course  Frankie  an'  Jimmie  are  bright 
enough,  but  they  haven't  had  the  regular 
work  like  they  get  in  town,  so  they'll  have 
their  hands  full. 

"An7  then  I  wanted  Jimmie  to  see  a  lit- 
tle bit  of  town  lite  so  he'd  feel  how  much 
better  the  country  was,  an'  want  to  stick 
to  the  farm.  He's  just  fitted  for  that. 
Frankie  always  said  ever  since  he  was  a 
little  feller  that  he  was  goin'  to  be  a  doc- 
tor, so  I  knew  he  ought  to  have  as  good  a 


[ 


M ana gin   Jim 

chance  as  he  could  so's  to  get  ahead  the 
faster. 

"But  Jim  kind  o'  balked  when  I  sug- 
gested it.  Of  course,  we  was  alone  when 
we  talked  the  thing  over.  We  agreed 
when  we  was  married  never  to  talk  any- 
thing over  before  the  boys  that  we  might 
disagree  on,  without  havin'  it  settled  be- 
forehand, 'cause  I  didn't  think  it  was  a 
good  thing  for  them  to  hear  any  argu- 
ments we  might  have.  If  they  sided  with 
their  pa,  they'd  think  I  was  stubborn,  an' 
if  they  sided  with  me,  an'  I  knew  they 
most  always  would,  they'd  think  their  pa 
was  stubborn.  So  it  was  fairer  to  their 
pa  than  to  me.  * 

"Well,  Jim  didn't  think  he  could  spare 
the  boys.  It  would  mean  hirin'  another 
hand,  an'  then  he  couldn't  spare  the 

E  in  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


money.  Board  in  town  cost  ready  money, 
an'  he  didn't  have  any  too  much.  An' 
besides,  he  was  plannin'  on  buyin'  the 
'joinin'  farm  as  soon  as  he  could,  so  the 
two  boys  could  each  have  a  good  place 
when  we  stepped  out.  I  could  see  he 
wasn't  to  be  convinced,  an'  I  never  waste 
words  arguin'.  Thinks  I,  Words  is  just 
words,  an'  when  you've  said  it,  why, 
you've  just  said  it,  an'  it's  got  to  be  done 
yet,  but  if  you  do  it,  why,  then  it's  done.' 
So  I  told  him  I  didn't  think  he'd  treated 
me  fair  in  not  lettin'  me  know  he  was 
countin'  on  buyin'  that  place.  Of  course 
I  did  know  it,  though  he  hadn't  never 
told  me.  'Tain't  just  the  things  that  a 
man  tells  a  woman  that  she  knows.  If  it 
was,  we'd  all  be  the  biggest  know-nothm's 
you  ever  see.  But  I  wanted  him  to  feel 


Managin'  Jim 


that  he  hadn't  been  fair,  an'  I  told  him 
I  could  have  helped  him  if  I'd  only 
known  it.  I  hadn't  been  near  as  savin'  as 
I  might  have  been,  an'  ev'ry  cent  counts 
twice  when  it  comes  to  savin'. 

"I  didn't  say  nothin'  more  about  the 
boys  goin'  to  school.  I'd  started  the  sub- 
ject long  enough  ahead  so  we  would  have 
plenty  of  time  to  settle  the  thing  before 
school  opened,  but  the  next  day,  when  I 
did  the  bakin'  for  the  next  week,  I  cut 
down  on  the  cake  and  cookies,  an'  ev'ry- 
thing  except  just  what  we  had  to  have. 
When  we  came  to  set  down  to  the  table 
to  supper  there  wasn't  any  cake,  or  any 
preserves,  the  first  time  at  supper  we 
hadn't  had  both  on  the  table  since  we  was 
married.  Jim  looked  kind  o'  red  when 
I  told  the  boys,  when  they  asked  if  I 

[  "3  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


hadn't  forgot  something  that  their  pa  had 
just  been  tellin'  me  about  some  plans  for 
us  all  that  he  was  makin',  an'  if  they  was 
to  go  through  all  right,  we'd  all  have  to 
help,  an'  the  best  way  we  could  do  it  was 
to  cut  down  on  things  like  cake  that  take 
so  much  butter  an'  so  many  eggs.  The 
boys  wanted  to  know  what  it  was  an'  I 
told  'em  about  the  farm,  not  the  school. 
Frankie  didn't  look  very  cheerful  at  the 
idee  of  havin'  a  farm  of  his  own.  He 
hates  farm  work,  an'  it  don't  seem  as  if  he 
can  ever  do  any  work  right  in  the  field, 
but  you  let  him  doctor  a  sick  chicken,  or 
a  calf,  an'  he's  perfec'ly  happy.  I  told 
'em  that  I  hadn't  known  till  just  a  little 
before  about  the  plan,  or  I  wouldn't  have 
been  so  reckless  in  cookin',  an'  I  went  on 
talkin'  about  how  nice  it  would  be  for  all 
[  "4  ] 


Man  agin'  Jim 


of  us  to  work  together  savin'.  It  wouldn't 
be  so  hard  on  any  of  us  that  way.  They 
agreed  to  it,  an'  seemed  to  stand  goin' 
without  all  right,  but  Jim  never  seemed 
to  get  enough  to  eat  without  just  the 
things  that  we  didn't  have  on  the  table 
any  more,  so  he  didn't  get  along  so  well 
as  the  boys. 

"Then  on  Friday  mornin'  Jim  said  to 
me,  'Hadn't  you  better  bake  to-day  so  we 
can  go  to  town  to-morrow?'  I'd  made 
him  understand  before  this  that  if  he 
planned  on  my  goin'  to  town  on  Satur- 
day, bakin'  day,  he'd  have  to  let  me  know 
beforehand  that  we  was  goin',  so  I  could 
do  my  bakin'  Friday,  though  my  work 
was  lots  lighter  now  that  I  didn't  have 
cakes  or  pies  to  make.  I  told  him  I 
couldn't  afford  to  go.  Says  I,  'If  I  go 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


now,  I'll  have  to  have  the  hired  man's 
wife  to  help  me  get  the  work  done  next 
week,  an'  we  can't  afford  to  hire.'  Jim 
didn't  say  no  more,  but  he  stayed  to  home 
himself  on  Saturday  an'  the  boys  had  to 
stick  pretty  close  to  their  work  that  day. 
On  Saturday  night  I  counted  up  what  we 
saved  by  goin'  without  some  of  the  things, 
an'  the  boys  looked  as  if  they  felt  pretty 
happy  over  it,  but  Jim  didn't  even  thank 
me  for  tryin'  to  save.  ' 

"Just  a  week  from  the  next  Wednesday 
came  the  Old  Folks'  Picnic  at  the  county- 
seat,  an7  Jim,  I  knew,  was  plannin'  on 
goin'.  He  hadn't  never  missed  a  picnic 
since  they  started  havin'  'em  fifteen  years 
before,  an'  when  he  mentioned  it  to  me 
that  Saturday  night,  he  looked  kind  o' 
s'prised  when  I  told  him  that  I'd  planned 
[  116] 


Managin   Jim 


on  doin'  some  colourin'  that  day,  that 
bein'  the  only  day  I  could  borrow  the  big 
kittle  an'  I  couldn't  afford  to  hire  the  col- 
ourin' done.  An'  besides,  I  didn't  think 
we  could  all  afford  to  go.  We  couldn't 
go  without  the  boys,  that  was  understood. 
Why,  it  meant  the  loss  of  the  work  of  four 
an'  the  team  for  one  whole  day  if  we 
went,  an'  ev'ry  cent  counted  toward  that 
'joinin'  farm. 

"Jim  didn't  say  no  more  about  the 
picnic  then,  but  he  wasn't  quite  the  most 
pleasant  person  to  live  with  all  week. 
Seemed  as  if  cake  an'  preserves  an'  such 
had  been  keepin'  him  sweet.  On  Thurs- 
day mornin'  he  went  to  town  on  business. 
After  he  was  gone,  I  fixed  up  a  bundle  of 
dress  goods  an'  went  down  to  one  of  the 
neighbours.  She  had  a  waist  pattern  that 

c  "7] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


I  wanted  to  use,  an'  she  was  pretty  clever 
at  cuttin'  out  dresses.  I  always  make  my 
own  waists,  but  I  can't  never  get  the  skirts 
to  hang  right,  so  I  hire  them  made. 
Change  work  with  this  neighbour,  or 
somethin'.  When  I  got  the  waist  cut  out 
I  started  home,  but  I  wasn't  goin'  to  lug 
that  bundle  back  through  the  sun  an'  dust, 
so  I  says,  Til  leave  this  here  an'  when 
Jim  goes  past  you  send  it  up  by  him. 
Just  say  there's  the  stuff  you  said  you'd 
send  up.' 

"Well,  I  got  back  an7  started  dinner, 
an'  after  while  Jim  come  drivin'  up.  I 
went  out  to  meet  him,  for  I  needed  some 
of  the  groceries  he  had,  an'  he  handed 
down  the  bundle.  He  looked  at  me  kind 
o'  queer,  an'  says,  'What's  this?  Mis' 
Jones  said  to  tell  you  it  was  the  goods  she 
[  118  ] 


Managin'  Jim 


was  goin'  to  send  up.'  I  said,  'Oh,  just 
some  sewin'  I'm  goin'  to  do.'  He  looked 
mad,  an'  asked,  'You  ain't  doin'  any 
sewin'  for  her,  be  you?  You  needn't 
think  you're  goin'  to  take  in  sewin'!'  An' 
he  started  to  take  the  bundle  out  of  my 
hand,  but  I  walked  into  the  house.  I 
knew  he'd  been  thinkin'  all  the  way  up  to 
the  house  that  somethin'  was  wrong  with 
that  bundle  (it  would  take  him  about  that 
long  to  get  as  stirred  up  as  he  was) ,  an'  I 
was  just  as  well  pleased  that  he  did  think 
I  was  sewin'  for  the  neighbours  to  save 
money  for  that  'joinin'  farm,  even  if  it  did 
hurt  his  pride  to  have  his  wife  take  in 


sewin7. 


"At  dinner  he  didn't  say  no  more  about 
the  thing  'cause  the  boys  was  around.  Of 
course,  if  he'd  asked  me  I'd  have  told  him 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


that  it  was  a  waist  that  I  was  makin*  for 
myself,  though  I  might  not  have  told  him 
I  was  makin'  it  just  to  wear  to  that  Old 
Folks'  Picnic.  But  I  was,  just  the  same. 
But  he  didn't  ask  me,  an'  he  kep'  on 
gettin'  more  an'  more  stirred  up  about  my 
sewin'  for  the  neighbours,  just  to  save 
money  so  as  to  buy  another  farm.  If  he'd 
seen  the  goods  he'd  have  known,  if  he'd 
been  a  woman,  that  I  wasn't  sewin'  for 
Mis'  Jones,  for  she  couldn't  wear  that 
colour,  but  he  didn't  see  the  goods,  an'  if 
he  had,  bein'  a  man,  he  wouldn't  have 
thought  about  such  a  little  thing  as 
colour. 

"I  didn't  see  nothin'  of  Jim  all  after- 
noon except  when  he  come  in  from  the 
field  an'  hitched  up  the  team  an'  drove 
over  to  the  neighbour's  that  owned  the 
[  120  ] 


Managin'  Jim 


farm  that  he  was  countin'  on  buyin'.  He 
got  back  just  before  supper,  an'  he  looked 
a  little  less  grumpy  than  he  did  at  noon. 
We  sat  down  to  the  table,  an'  it  did  look 
kind  o'  bare  without  cake  or  cookies,  or 
sauce  or  preserves,  or  anything  except 
just  the  most  common  things,  that  we  just 
had  to  have.  We  hadn't  had  any  cake  for 
almost  two  weeks,  now,  an'  sauce  only 
once  when  we  had  company.  Jim  looked 
around  over  the  table,  an'  then  he  says 
more'n  I  ever  heard  him  say  at  one  time 
before,  'Ma,  I  guess  we  might  as  well 
have  all  we  want  to  eat,  now,  again.  I 
told  Hawkins  this  afternoon  that  we 
wouldn't  want  his  farm,  wouldn't  have 
no  use  for  it.  An'  to-morrow,  you  can  do 
your  bakin'  for  that  picnic  next  Wednes- 
day, 'cause  on  Saturday  we're  goin'  to 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


town,  all  of  us,  to  get  the  boys  some  clo'es, 
an'  to  arrange  for  a  boardin'-place  for 
'em  so's  to  be  ready  when  school  begins. 
An'  you  can  send  Mis'  Jones'  sewin'  back 
an'  tell  her  you  ain't  goin'  to  do  it.'  An' 
then  I  said,  for  of  course  I  had  to  have 
the  last  word,  'Why,  pa,  that  sewin'  is  the 
waist  I'm  makin'  to  wear  to  the  picnic 
next  week.' " 


[  122  ] 


^ 

CHAPTER  VII 

A  MARTYR  TO  THE  CAUSE 

vjOOD  mornin',  I'm  right  glad  to  see 
you.  Thought  since  Jim  had  to  come 
over  here  to  attend  court  that  I'd  come 
along  and  spend  the  day.  Oh,  yes,  I'm 
well.  You  heard  I  was  sick?  Yes,  the 
report  got  around.  I  did  have  to  have 
some  help  for  awhile,  but  we're  all  all 
right  again.  The  boys?  Oh,  they're  both 
well.  Frankie  is  in  the  high  school  in 
town.  Stays  in  from  Monday  till  Friday. 
Jimmie's  helpin'  to  run  the  farm.  'How 
old  is  he?'  did  you  say?  Oh,  Jimmie's 
nineteen,  now,  an'  Frankie  seventeen. 

[  123  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


He  wants  to  be  a  doctor,  an'  so  we're 
givin'  him  the  chance.  Jimmie  wants  to 
stay  on  the  farm,  an'  he's  doin'  right  well, 
too.  Jim  seems  to  be  gettin'  so  he  don't 
care  if  he  don't  work.  Talks  about 
movin'  to  town,  an'  I  expect  he'll  want  to 
give  up  the  farm  to  Jimmie  as  soon's  he 
gets  married. 

"Oh,  no,  he  ain't  thinkin'  of  gettin' 
married,  now.  He  was  thinkin'  pretty 
serious  awhile  ago,  but  he's  got  all  over 
that.  Of  course,  he  wouldn't  have  got 
married  right  away,  he's  so  young,  but 
he  would  have  got  engaged,  an'  he's  the 
kind  that  don't  back  out  of  anything  when 
he  gets  started,  so  I  s'pose  he'd  be  wantin' 
to  get  married  pretty  soon  if  I  hadn't  been 
sick.  An7  that's  what  I  come  to  tell  you 
about.  It  seems  so  good  to  have  one  place 
[  124  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


where  I  can  come  an7  talk  without  it's 
bein'  spread  all  over  the  township.  Of 
course,  it  comes  handy  to  have  things 
spread  once  in  awhile,  but  this  ain't  one 
of  'em.  An'  it's  no  fun  talkin'  to  Jim 
about  it,  for  he  don't  seem  to  understand. 
But  Jimmie's  different.  He  can  under- 
stand, but  this  ain't  a  subject  that  it's  best 
to  talk  to  him  about 

"What  am  I  talkin'  about?  Well, 
ain't  I  goin'  to  tell  you  just  as  soon  as  I 
can?  Now  I'll  start  at  the  beginnin'. 
Last  year  when  Jimmie  come  back  from 
town  school,  an'  made  up  his  mind  to  stay 
on  the  farm,  he  found  we  had  some  new 
neighbours.  They  was  a  whole  parcel  of 
'em,  mostly  girls,  with  a  shif'less,  ol' 
t'bacco-furnace  of  a  father,  an'  a  dragged- 
out,  washed-out,  ol'  mother,  an'  the  whole 
[  125  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


lot  of  'em  went  slantin'  along  like  as  if 
they  was  leanin'  up  against  the  wind.  An' 
I  kind  o'  suspected  they  had  consumption, 
the  whole  kit  an'  bilin'  of  'em,  but  I 
wasn't  sure,  an'  I  ain't  yet.  But  the  girls 
all  looked  slick's  could  be,  when  they  was 
fixed  up.  All  had  yaller  hair,  an'  pink 
cheeks,  an'  blue  eyes,  that's  bright  an' 
pretty  now,  but  just  you  wait  till  they've 
been  through  what  their  mother  has,  or 
any  other  woman  that  lives  on  a  farm,  an' 
they'll  have  that  same  dragged-out, 
white-eyed  look  that  their  mother  has. 
"That's  one  trouble  with  boys  gettin' 
married.  They  don't  look  far  enough 
back  even  to  see  the  mother.  The  girl 
herself  is  the  whole  thing  with  them,  an' 
three-fourths  of  the  time  they  don't  seem 
to  think  that  'like  mother,  like  daughter, 
[  126  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


like  father,  like  son,'  an'  when  they  ain't 
happy  after  they're  married,  they  blame 
ev'rybody  but  themselves.  Just  s'pose 
they  was  out  buyin'  horses.  Wouldn't 
they  expect  to  get  a  crib-bitin',  kickin' 
colt  if  the  mother  was  a  cribber  an'  a 
kicker,  an'  the  colt  had  been  raised  with 
the  mare?  An'  yet  they  don't  use  half 
the  judgment  in  pickin'  out  their  wives 
that  the  commonest  fool  does  in  buyin' 
his  horses  an'  cattle.  If  it's  good  payin' 
policy  to  have  pedigree  cattle,  an'  regis- 
tered horses,  an'  even  pigs,  why,  in  the 
name  of  common  sense,  ain't  it  a  good 
payin'  policy  to  know  what  your  wife's 
folks  was,  whether  they  was  the  kind  that 
starved  out  ev'rywhere  they  ever  lived,  or 
whether  they  really  had  gumption 
enough  to  do  things  an'  make  a  livin'P 

1 127] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


An'  you  can't  depend  on  the  kind  o' 
houses  the  folks  live  in  to  tell  anything 
about  it.  Some  of  these  here  log  cabins 
back  in  the  woods  turns  out  better  pedi- 
greed youngsters  than  some  of  your  swell 
houses  in  town.  You've  just  got  to  use 
your  common  sense  'cause  the  finest  regis- 
tered cattle  don't  always  have  the  best 
stables.  That  is,  use  what's  a  woman's 
common  sense!  Seems  like  that's  a  man's 
uncommon  sense.  Well,  it  seems  as  if 
when  I  get  started  on  this  subject  I  never 
can  stop,  an'  I  don't  get  the  chance  to  talk 
very  often  on  it,  for  Jim  just  laughs,  an' 
of  course  I  can't  talk  to  the  boys.  There's 
things  that  it's  just  as  well  not  to  talk 
to  the  boys,  but  that  don't  mean  that  you 
mustn't  impress  it  on  'em  some  other  way. 

[  128  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


But  I'll  go  back  to  what  I  was  tellin', 
now. 

"When  Jimmie  come  home,  he  found 
these  new  neighbours.  They'd  moved  in 
on  the  next  farm,  the  Hawkins  one,  you 
know,  the  one  we  didn't  buy,  an'  was 
pretty  well  acquainted  before  ever  Jim- 
mie come  home  to  stay.  Then  he  went  to 
one  of  their  parties,  an'  pretty  soon  his 
little  drivin'  mare  an'  new  top  buggy  was 
workin'  nights  an'  Sundays,  an'  even  then 
it  seemed  as  if  they  couldn't  keep  up.  Of 
course,  I  knew  all  the  time  what  was 
goin'  on,  an'  while  of  course  I  knew  it  was 
one  of  the  new  folks,  I  hardly  thought 
that  Jimmie  would  be  such  a  fool  as  to 
take  the  least  likely  one  of  the  whole  lot. 
But  that's  just  like  a  boy,  looks  is  all  they 
think  about.  Well,  of  course,  I'd  been 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


over  to  visit  'em,  an'  I  kep'  my  eyes  open. 
Any  woman  that  thinks  anything  of  her 
sons  keeps  her  eyes  open  when  there's 
girls  around  that  there's  any  danger  of 
her  boys  takin'  a  shine  to.  An'  I  noticed 
when  there  was  any  work  to  be  done,  that 
the  oldest  girl  was  called  on  to  do  it,  an' 
that  the  one  that  Jimmie  was  so  sweet  on 
was  late  in  comin'  down  to  meals,  an'  she 
went  'round  the  house  till  'leven  o'clock 
with  her  shoes  unfastened,  an'  her  hair 
wasn't  combed  till  the  dinner-bell  rang, 
one  mornin'  I  was  there.  I  don't  believe 
in  that  sort  of  thing,  an'  my  boys  ain't 
used  to  it,  at  least  not  since  I've  been  their 
ma,  an'  I  knew  that  Jimmie  didn't  ever 
see  that  side  of  the  girl's  character. 

"Jimmie    kep'    on    gettin'    worse    an' 
worse  smit,  an'  finally  I  made  up  my 
[  130  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


mind  it  was  time  to  do  somethin'.  They 
wasn't  engaged  yet,  I  knew  that,  but  they 
was  just  on  the  point  of  bein'.  Anybody 
with  any  kind  o'  eye  can  tell  when  a 
young  couple  is  just  on  the  point  o'  bein' 
engaged.  I  don't  know  just  how  it  is,  but 
if  you  ever  see  a  couple  together,  or  see 
one  of  'em  when  the  other  is  spoken  of, 
you  can  always  tell. 

"One  week  I  wrote  to  my  sister  an' 
asked  her  to  come  an'  see  me  the  next 
week  Thursday.  I  knew  she'd  get  there 
about  ten  in  the  mornin',  an'  then  I  began 
carryin'  out  the  rest  of  my  plan.  I  got 
Jim  to  arrange  the  farm  work  so  that 
Jimmie  could  be  around  the  house  for 
two  or  three  days  just  before  my  sister 
come,  not  loafin',  but  workin'  near 
enough  the  house  so  he  could  come  in 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


two  or  three  times  in  the  forenoon,  an' 
the  same  in  the  afternoon. 

"On  Monday  mornin'  after  Jim  had 
gone  to  town  with  Frankie,  I  was  taken 
sick  so  I  couldn't  do  anything.  I  rung 
the  dinner-bell  for  Jimmie  an'  then  went 
into  the  house  an'  dropped  onto  the 
lounge  in  the  settin'-room.  He  come  in 
on  the  run,  an'  found  me  stretched  out  on 
the  lounge,  an*  he  had  to  help  me  to  the 
bedroom.  I  wasn't  so  sick  as  I  was  just 
weak.  I  told  him  I'd  been  havin'  such 
spells  for  some  time  before,  for  he  was 
awful  scared,  an'  wanted  to  go  for  the 
doctor.  Then  I  told  him  that  all  we 
needed  to  worry  about  was  for  some  one 
to  do  the  work  till  my  sister  come  on 
Thursday.  I  had  felt  the  spell  comin' 
on,  so  I'd  written  for  her.  But  we'd  have 
[  132  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


to  have  some  one  to  do  the  cookin'  an7 
look  after  me  a  little,  'cause  the  men  had 
their  work  to  do  around  the  farm.  So  I 
told  him  to  go  over  an'  see  if  Jennie 
couldn't  come  over  an'  stay  till  my  sister 
come.  I  said  somethin'  about  that  she 
ought  to  be  willin'  to  come,  an'  Jimmie 
blushed  like  anything.  But  he  started 
off,  so  as  to  have  her  back  by  dinner-time. 
After  he  was  gone,  I  got  up  an'  hid  away 
some  more  of  the  bakin'  I'd  done  the 
Saturday  before,  thinkin'  it  just  as  well 
that  Jimmie  should  have  a  plenty  of  his 
girl's  cookin'.  You  know  since  Jimmie 
had  been  workin'  on  the  farm,  we  didn't 
have  any  hired  man,  so  I  couldn't  get  the 
hired  man's  wife  to  help  out. 

"She  came  back  with  him,  an'  they 
found  me  in  bed,  restin'  a  little  easier 
[  133  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


than  when  he  went  away,  but  it  was  pretty 
near  time  for  Jim  to  be  home,  an'  Jimmie 
had  left  some  work  that  had  to  be  fin- 
ished, so  they  both  had  to  go  to  work.  It 
was  kind  o'  lonesome  layin'  there  flat  on 
my  back,  but  I'm  willin'  to  suffer  in  a 
good  cause,  an'  if  that  wasn't  one  I  never 
see  one.  The  girl  had  her  conceit  right 
with  her  an'  went  to  work  to  get  a  big 
dinner.  I  could  smell  it  when  she  come 
in  to  see  how  I  was  gettin'  along.  I  hated 
to  have  so  much  good  victuals  go  to 
waste,  an'  yet  I  thought  of  my  plans,  an' 
I  can  give  up  a  good  deal  to  have  my 
plans  go  through. 

"Jim  come  just  before  dinner,  an'  for 

a  minute  was  pretty  badly  scared,  but  I 

calmed  him  down,  an'  finally  persuaded 

him  not  to  think  he  had  to  go  for  the  doc- 

[  134  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


tor.  I  told  him  we  could  get  along  all 
right  till  my  sister  come,  an'  then  she'd 
bring  me  'round  all  right. 

"Jennie  looked  smart  an'  chipper  as 
could  be  at  dinner,  an'  I  guess  it  wa'n't 
more  than  half  spoiled,  an'  besides  there 
was  some  of  my  bakin'  left,  but  I  knew 
that  would  run  out  at  supper-time.  Then 
she  would  have  to  make  bread  or  biscuits. 
I  hoped  she'd  try  both.  I  could  hear 
Jimmie  come  in  ev'ry  once  in  awhile 
durin'  the  afternoon  an'  stop  an'  talk  a 
while  with  the  girl,  an'  finally  after  what 
seemed  like  days,  supper-time  came.  All 
I  had  was  tea  an'  toast,  an'  the  tea  was  too 
weak  an'  the  toast  was  cold.  But  I  re- 
membered the  other  martyrs,  an'  thought 
how  glad  I  ought  to  be  to  get  even  that 
much.  Before  gettin'-up  time  next 

[  135  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


mornin',  I  made  up  my  mind  that  most 
of  them  that's  what  they  call  'chronic  in- 
valids' is  really  sick,  so  sick  of  layin' 
'round  that  they're  so  weak  they  can't 
get  up. 

"I  don't  think  breakfast  went  off  so 
very  well  the  next  mornin',  for  I  smelled 
things  burnin',  an'  Jim  come  in  after 
eatin'  an'  he  looked  kind  o'  drawn-like 
an'  dissatisfied.  I  kind  o'  pitied  him,  but 
still  I  thought  I  was  sufferin'  for  his  boy, 
so  why  shouldn't  he?  Jimmie  come  in 
several  times  in  the  forenoon,  to  see  me, 
he  said,  but  he  spent  more  time  in  the 
kitchen  than  with  me.  I  was  feelin'  bet- 
ter in  the  afternoon,  but  thought  I'd  bet- 
ter stay  in  bed.  I  had  some  of  my  own 
cookin'  where  I  could  get  at  it,  so  I  wasn't 
so  bad  of!  as  the  others.  I  noticed  Jim- 
[  136  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


mie  looked  as  if  he  wasn't  really  enjoym' 
his  meals,  an'  I  pitied  him,  but  I  thought 
he  could  stand  a  few  days  now  better  than 
all  his  life  afterward.  Kind  o'  like  havin' 
a  tooth  pulled.  It  hurts  like  ev'rything 
for  a  minute  or  two,  but  that's  lots  better 
than  havin'  to  stand  the  toothache  for  a 
year  or  so. 

"Wednesday  come  and  went,  an'  Jen- 
nie still  tried  to  keep  things  goin'.  I  no- 
ticed Jimmie  didn't  come  to  the  house 
quite  so  often.  An'  both  him  an'  Jim 
looked  hungrier  than  ever.  On  Thurs- 
day mornin'  I  was  feelin'  so  much  worse 
that  I  had  Jim  stay  in  with  me  while  the 
young  folks  had  breakfast.  This  meal 
was  the  turnin'-point  of  my  whole 
scheme,  so  I  was  anxious  it  should  go  all 
right.  An'  it  went.  When  she  called 
[  137] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


Jim  to  breakfast  he  said  he  was  goin'  to 
stay  with  me,  an'  I  told  him  my  sister 
would  be  there  so  he  could  take  Jennie 
home  before  noon,  an'  my  sister  could 
cook  better'n  I  could.  'If  it  was  only  half 
so  good,  I  wouldn't  be  kickin',  after  these 
last  few  days,'  says  he. 

"I  had  the  room  doors  open  so  I  could 
hear  from  the  dinin'-room,  an'  I  couldn't 
hear  nothin',  so  I  had  to  get  up  to  see  how 
things  was  goin'.  I  peeked  through  the 
crack  of  the  door,  an'  there  the  two  sat, 
Jennie  at  the  head  of  the  table,  an'  Jim- 
mie  across  from  her.  Jimmie  looked  as 
slick  as  a  tin  whistle.  He  always  did. 
From  the  time  he  was  little  he  was  always 
just  so  p'ticular.  He  used  to  ask  me  to  put 
on  faded  patches  on  his  faded  overalls  in- 
stead of  new  pieces,  so  they  wouldn't 
[  138] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


show  so.  He  wasn't  proud,  but  they 
didn't  look  so  well.  He  didn't  care  for 
their  bein'  patches,  but  he  objected  to  the 
contrast.  An'  he  was  always  just  so. 
But  Jennie,  she  hadn't  half  combed  her 
hair,  an'  her  shoes  was  unbuttoned,  an'  I 
could  see  two  buttons  off  her  waist  in  the 
back,  an'  I  noticed  Jimmie  didn't  look 
at  her  very  often.  He  would  try  to  drink 
some  of  the  coffee,  which  couldn't  have 
been  very  hot,  'cause  it  didn't  steam  like 
it,  an'  then  he'd  draw  a  long  breath  an' 
try  one  of  the  biscuits.  That  seemed  to 
be  worse  than  the  coffee,  so  he'd  try  some 
of  the  fried  potatoes.  My,  how  mussy 
they  looked  in  the  dish!  He  passed  his 
cup  back  once  for  some  more  coffee.  He 
liked  coffee,  an'  I  didn't  see  how  he  could 
stand  it,  but  I  guess  he  thought  he  had  to 

[  139  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


drink  it  anyway.  An'  before  she  could 
fill  the  cup  she  had  to  brush  back  some 
stragglin'  hairs  that  looked  as  if  they  was 
goin'  to  get  into  the  cup,  an'  I  see  Jimmie 
scowl,  an'  I  thought  what  a  great  big  dif- 
ference it  makes  whether  you  see  'the 
light  hair  fluffin'  'round  her  face'  when 
you're  settin'  beside  her  on  a  moonlight 
night,  or  on  a  mornin'  from  across  the 
breakfast-table. 

"Then  Jimmie'd  try  to  talk.  I  always 
made  the  boys  talk  at  meals.  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  folks  settin'  down  an'  feedin' 
themselves  as  if  they  was  stuffin'  the  busi- 
ness end  of  a  thrashin'-machine.  An'  all 
Jennie  could  say  was  just  nothin',  an'  gig- 
gle, only  she  didn't  feel  much  like  gig- 
glin'  now,  she  was  so  cross.  Then  Jimmie 
gave  up  an'  sat  tryin'  to  eat  an'  not  sayin' 
[  140  ] 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


a  word,  an'  I  thought  again,  how  much 
different  the  same  giggle  sounds  when 
you  hear  it  in  the  moonlight  or  on  Sunday 
afternoon,  when  ev'rybody's  careless  an' 
happy,  an'  when  you  set  opposite  that 
same  giggle  at  the  breakfast- table  ev'ry 
day. 

"Finally  Jim  made  such  a  fuss  that  I 
was  afraid  the  young  folks  would  hear 
him,  'cause  I  wouldn't  go  back  to  bed. 
Why,  do  you  know,  he  really  thought  I 
was  sick  all  the  time,  an'  I  didn't  dare 
tell  him  what  I  was  tryin'  to  do  for  fear 
he  would  give  it  away?  So  I  went  back 
to  bed,  an'  Jimmie  come  in  to  see  how  I 
was  before  he  went  off  to  work.  He 
looked  hungrier  than  ever,  an'  I  pitied 
him.  I  almost  wanted  to  reach  under  the 
pillow  an'  give  him  some  of  the  cookies, 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


that  I  had  to  nibble  on  between  times,  but 
I  thought  it  better  not  to.  Then  he 
started  off  to  work,  an'  I  knew  that  he 
was  quite  cured  when  I  see  him  start  off 
to  the  other  end  of  the  farm  in  spite  of 
what  his  father  had  planned  for  him  to 
do  near  the  house. 

"About  ten  o'clock  sister  drove  up,  all 
alone,  an'  she  brought  me  'round  in  short 
order.  Or  at  least  that  was  what  Jim 
thought.  Of  course  I  told  her  what  was 
up.  An'  she  cured  me  right  away,  an'  at 
eleven  Jim  started  home  with  Jennie,  an' 
right  glad  she  was  to  get  away.  Then  we 
pitched  in,  an'  if  we  didn't  have  a  rousin' 
old  dinner  for  those  two  men  when  they 
come  to  answer  the  bell!  Jimmie  was  as 
pleased  as  could  be  to  see  me  up  an' 
around.  An'  he  looked  mighty  relieved 


A  Martyr  to  the  Cause 


when  he  looked  around  an'  didn't  see 
nobody  but  just  our  own  folks.  He  didn't 
say  a  word,  but  he  didn't  need  to,  from 
the  way  he  eat.  I  really  thought  he'd  die, 
an'  Jim  was  just  as  bad.  They  both  eat 
till  I  thought  even  the  table  wouldn't  be 
left. 

"How  did  it  come  out?  Oh,  Jimmie's 
buggy  stayed  in  the  shed,  an'  his  mare  in 
the  pasture  the  next  Sunday,  an'  the  next 
week  Jennie  went  to  a  picnic  with  an- 
other fellow,  so  Jimmie  didn't  feel  as  if 
she  was  breakin'  her  heart  over  him. 

"I  tell  you  the  best  way  to  cure  love- 
sick young  folks  is  just  to  plant  'em  side 
by  side  an'  let  'em  see  each  other,  in  fair 
weather,  an'  foul  weather,  sun  an'  rain, 
an'  if  they  can  stand  that  for  a  few  days, 

[  '43  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


they  can  stand  it  for  a  lifetime.  Most 
people  can't  keep  on  their  company  man- 
ners more  than  a  day  at  a  time,  an'  after 
that  day  is  the  time  that  does  the  work." 


[  144  ] 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A  WOMAN'S  WILES 


W  HY,  good  afternoon.  I'm  awful 
glad  to  see  you.  Haven't  seen  you  to  have 
a  visit  with,  since  I  don'  know  when. 
Two  years,  is  it?  Well,  several  things 
has  happened  since  then.  Of  course,  if 
you  lived  over  in  our  neighbourhood, 
you'd  know  all  about  'em.  At  least  the 
neighbours  there  think  they  do.  But  I 
came  over  just  to  free  my  mind.  I've  just 
got  through  about  the  hardest  plan  to 
work  that  I  ever  undertook.  You  know 
how  hard  it  is  to  do  anything  without 
tools  that  you  can  depend  on.  Well,  it's 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


a  sight  harder  to  do  with  tools  that  thinks 
they  know  what  they're  doin'  all  the  time, 
an'  you're  afraid  they'll  go  ahead  an' 
spoil  all  your  plans. 

"You  know  I've  always  taught  the 
boys  to  come  to  me  whenever  they  got  in 
trouble.  Real  trouble,  I  mean.  Oh,  no, 
I  make  'em  stand  the  little  things  by 
themselves,  but  whenever  I  see  'em 
worryin'  for  some  little  time,  I  usually 
manage  to  give  'em  the  chance  to  tell  me 
about  it,  an'  if  I  can't  help  'em  out,  well, 
they're  pretty  near  past  helpin',  though  I 
do  say  it  myself. 

"Jimmie  had  been  kind  o'  blue  an' 
fidgety  an'  tired-lookin'  for  some  little 
time.  All  right  again?  Well,  you  just 
wait  till  I  get  through  an'  you'll  know. 
I  stood  it  havin'  him  around  that  way 
[  146  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


till  I  thought  it  was  pretty  near  time  for 
him  to  come  to  me.  I  see  one  day  he  was 
tryin'  to  arrange  it  so  we  could  have  a 
good  talk  together,  so  I  planned  for  him 
to  take  me  to  town.  I  don't  know  of  a 
better  place  to  talk  than  in  a  buggy.  An' 
then  I  kind  o'  think  Jimmie's  more  used 
to  talkin'  on  such  subjects  as  he  was  goin' 
to  talk  about,  when  he's  out  drivin'.  So 
we  started  out  for  town,  an'  as  soon  as  we 
got  started,  he  begun.  I  don't  remember 
just  what  he  said,  but  the  substance  was 
that  he  wanted  my  advice  about  a  girl  that 
he'd  been  goin'  with,  an'  he  thought  she 
was  the  only  one  for  him,  an'  she  seemed 
to  like  him,  but  when  he  popped  the  ques- 
tion she  give  him  the  mitten,  an'  the  poor 
boy  was  all  broke  up.  He  kind  o'  stam- 
mered an'  got  so  mixed  up  that  I  had  to 

c 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


guess  about  half  he  was  tryin'  to  say,  but  I 
knew  most  of  it  before  so  it  didn't  make  a 
difference.  Of  course,  I  couldn't  let  him 
know  that  I  knew  it  at  all,  'cause  it's  just 
as  well  sometimes  that  the  men  should 
think  we  women's  as  slow  an'  dull  as  they 
be.  I  kep'  on  askin'  questions,  an'  he  kep' 
on  feelin'  worse  an'  worse.  I  knew  the 
boy  was  pretty  badly  smit,  an'  I  thor- 
oughly approved  of  the  girl.  Of  course, 
I  knew  her.  There  ain't  a  girl  in  our  part 
of  the  county,  nor  many  in  other  parts 
that  I  don't  know.  An'  I  know  whether 
they  ever  look  at  my  boys,  too,  an'  I  know 
ev'ry  one  of  their  families  back  as  far  as 
when  they  first  come  to  the  county,  any- 
way. Why,  .a  mother's  got  to  know  them 
things.  How's  her  boy  goin'  to  be  happy 
if  she  don't  see  that  he  gets  the  right  girl? 
[  148  J 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


Of  course,  I  never  interfere  when  a  boy's 
in  love,  but  it's  just  as  well  not  to  let  him 
get  in  love  with  a  girl  that  ain't  the  right 
one.  I  don't  know  what  boys  does  that 
ain't  got  no  mothers,  or  is  so  far  away 
from  'em  that  the  mothers  can't  know  the 
girls  the  boy  knows.  But  usually,  if  the 
boy  is  right  smart,  he'll  look  around  an' 
find  a  second  mother,  who'll  kind  o'  take 
the  place  of  the  one  that's  gone,  or  ain't 
there,  an'  help  him  out  when  he  needs 
help. 

"As  I  was  sayin',  I  knew  the  girl.  I'd 
been  to  a  picnic  once  where  she  was.  Pic- 
nics? Of  course  we  go  to  picnics,  as  long 
as  we  can  stand  to  ride  in  rockin'-chairs 
in  the  backs  of  wagons,  or  can  stand  to  be 
up  an'  dressed  long  enough  to  get  to  the 
picnic  place  an'  back,  an'  I  have  heard  of 

[   '49  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


one  old  man  who  always  had  a  cot  took 
along  in  the  back  of  the  wagon,  so,  if  he 
had  to,  he  could  lie  down  all  the  way 
home.  What's  picnics  for  but  to  go  to? 
An'  do  you  think  the  young  folks  is  goin' 
to  have  all  the  fun?  Well — seems  as  if 
I  couldn't  stick  to  what  I'm  tellin'  to-day 
to  save  my  neck.  One  reason's  'cause  I'm 
feelin'  so  good.  Why?  Oh,  just  you  wait 
till  I  get  done,  an'  you'll  know. 

"Well,  at  this  picnic  that  I  was  at,  this 
girl  that  Jimmie  liked  so  well  started  in 
gettin'  the  tables  set  for  dinner.  I  could 
see  by  her  business-like  way  that  she  knew 
what  she  was  doin'.  I'd  never  met  her 
before,  but  I  knew  her  folks  back  for 
three  generations.  She  took  right  hold, 
an'  she  ran  things.  She  didn't  boss  'round. 
My,  no!  That  ain't  the  way  to  run  things! 
[  '50  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


She  just  started  the  poor  sticks  that  wasn't 
any  good  at  helpin'  off  after  water  an' 
ferns  to  decorate  the  table,  she  said.  I 
knew  that  it  was  just  to  keep  'em  out  of 
the  way.  An'  the  worst  old  crank  in  the 
lot  she  got  to  makin'  sandwiches.  I  heard 
her  tell  this  one  that  she  could  cut  the 
nicest,  thinnest,  even  slices,  an'  that  old 
crank  just  swallowed  it  all  in,  an'  believed 
it.  Catch  anybody  gettin'  'round  me  that 
way.  She  just  kept  things  goin'  that  way 
till  she  had  the  dinner  all  fixed,  an'  the 
folks  down  to  the  table,  an'  she  played 
those  folks  off  against  each  other  (the  old 
crabbed  ones,  I  mean),  till  she  got  'em  all 
seated  'round  the  table-cloth,  so  that  each 
one  thought  he  was  the  one  person  in  that 
crowd  that  was  bein'  honoured  by  the  way 
the  seats  was  placed. 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


"I  saw  she  had  her  eye  on  Jimmie,  so 
as  soon  as  dinner  was  over,  an'  I  heard 
her  say,  Well,  I  helped  get  the  dinner  on. 
Somebody  else  can  get  it  picked  up,'  I 
calls  Jimmie  an'  says,  'I  want  some  of  that 
peppermint  that's  growin'  down  by  the 
spring  in  the  next  pasture.  Will  you  get 
me  some?'  He  looked  kind  o'  as  if  he 
had  some  other  plans,  but  he  said  he 
would.  I  thought  it  just  as  well  that  she 
shouldn't  think  she  could  whistle,  an' 
have  Jimmie  come,  like  as  if  he  was  a 
puppy. 

"I  saw  him  start  off,  an'  then  I  got  to 
visitin'.  There  was  some  folks  that  lived 
over  where  I  used  to,  an'  I  had  about 
twenty  years  of  ketchin'  up  to  do,  an'  I 
had  to  hear  all  about  all  the  folks  that 
had  died,  an'  got  married,  an'  all,  since 
[  152  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


I'd  left  there.  Then  one  old  man  got 
started  on  a  long-winded  yarn  (I  thought 
nobody  else  would  ever  get  a  chance  to 
talk  again)  an'  I  began  thinkin'  about 
how  that  girl,  after  she'd  got  the  dinner, 
just  walked  out  an'  left  the  rest  to  do  their 
share.  An'  I  made  up  my  mind  then  an' 
there  that  she  was  the  right  kind.  There's 
the  awfully  willin'  kind  that'll  work  an' 
work  an7  never  seem  to  know  when 
they've  got  their  share  done.  Then 
there's  the  kind  that  knows  when  they've 
done  their  share,  an'  stops  when  they  get 
it  done.  That's  the  kind  I  like.  I  believe 
it's  as  wrong  to  do  more  than  your  share 
of  work  as  it  is  to  shirk  your  share.  One 
way,  you  cheat  somebody  else  out  of  the 
chance  to  do  their  share,  an'  the  other  you 
force  somebody  else  to  do  your  share. 
[  'S3  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


An'  I  don't  know  but  cheatin'  is  the  worst 
of  the  two.  I  know  I'd  rather  do  the 
shirkin'.  An'  I  could  see  that  she  knew 
when  she'd  done  her  share. 

"Come  time  to  start  gettin'  ready  to  go 
home,  an'  somebody  began  yellin'  for  the 
young  folks  to  come  back.  We  all  come 
in  wagon-loads,  so  there  wasn't  to  be  any 
leavin'  the  young  folks  to  come  home  in 
their  buggies  when  they  got  ready,  an'  be- 
sides most  of  us  had  our  chores  to  do. 
Well,  I  begun  to  look  around  for  Jimmie. 
I  never  needed  to  look  for  Jim.  If  he 
ever  even  got  out  from  under  my  feet,  I 
was  glad  enough.  Frankie  was  in  town, 
in  the  doctor's  office  studyin'.  Pretty  soon 
I  see  Jimmie  comin'  up  the  hill,  an'  who 
should  be  with  him  but  that  girl,  an'  as 
I  live,  he  didn't  have  a  sprig  of  pepper- 

[  154] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


mint.  I  didn't  say  anything  when  he 
come  up,  but  that  girl,  she  looked  at  me 
kind  o'  sassy  like,  an'  I  could  have 
hugged  her  right  then  an'  there,  when  she 
said,  'I  guess  Jimmie  forgot  all  about  the 
peppermint,  but  here's  some  I  brought 
for  you,'  an'  she  pulled  out  from  the  front 
of  her  shirt-waist  a  little  smitch  with 
about  three  leaves,  an'  handed  it  to  me. 
Jimmie  didn't  have  nothin'  to  say  all  the 
way  home,  an'  he'd  shut  up  like  a  clam 
if  I  so  much  as  mentioned  peppermint 
for  awhile. 

"So  you  see  I  knew  the  girl,  an'  I  felt 
as  bad  as  Jimmie  did  about  it,  only  I 
knew  it  was  the  best  thing  for  him  that 
she  wouldn't  have  him  first  askin'.  It's 
lots  more  worth  while  havin7  anything  if 
you  have  to  work  an'  scheme  an'  contrive 

[  155  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


for  a  year  or  so  gettin'  it,  than  if  it  falls 
into  your  arms  first  thing. 

"I  told  Jimmie  that  the  best  thing  he 
could  do  was  to  keep  away  from  her.  Of 
course,  he  didn't  want  to.  I  told  him,  of 
course,  that  I  thought  there  was  nicer 
girls,  an'  girls  that  would  make  him  bet- 
ter wives,  an'  that  he  ought  to  remember 
that  he  was  goin'  to  have  the  farm,  an' 
that  he'd  be  one  of  the  best  catches  in  the 
county,  so  he  ought  to  look  around,  an' 
not  get  snapped  up  by  somebody  that 
didn't  have  anything  at  all.  Maybe  I 
stretched  the  truth,  when  I  said  what  I 
did  about  better  wives,  an'  nicer  girls,  but 
if  a  mother  ain't  got  the  right  to  stretch 
the  truth  for  her  boy's  sake,  who  has,  I'd 
like  to  know  ? 

"Then  I  began  real  serious-like  askin' 
[  156  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


him  if  he'd  ever  stopped  to  think  what  it 
means  to  get  married,  an'  to  give  up  all 
the  flirtations  with  other  girls,  an'  just 
stick  to  one.  An'  if  he  thought  this  girl 
was  the  one  girl  that  he'd  like  to  set  down 
to  breakfast  with,  an'  dinner  an'  supper, 
too,  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  'Just  think,' 
says  I,  'there's  three  hundred  an'  sixty- 
five  days  in  a  year,  an'  three  meals  in  the 
day,  an'  you'll  live  at  least  fifty  years,  so 
you'll  have  to  set  down  to  the  table  with 
her  just  about,  let  me  see,  fifty  times 
three  hundred  an'  sixty-five,  is  about 
eighteen  thousand,  an'  three  meals  a  day 
is  about  somethin'  over  fifty  thousand.' 
I'd  worked  it  out  beforehand,  so  I  had  it 
all  ready.  I  watched  him  close  when  I 
said  that  about  settin'  down  to  the  break- 
fast-table, but  he  didn't  seem  to  suspec' 

[  157] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


nothin',  so  I  went  on.  I  talked  pretty 
plain  to  him.  It  was  right  I  should.  I 
owed  it  to  the  boy  an'  to  myself  to  do  it. 
'An'  say  the  first  three  hundred  an'  sixty- 
five  days,  there'll  be  just  you  two  at  the 
breakfast-table,  if  you  don't  have  no 
hired  man  boardin'  with  you,  an'  after 
that,  there'll  be  a  new  little  face  ev'ry 
year  or  so,  an7  some  of  the  faces  will  be 
like  yours  an'  some  like  hers,  an'  there'll 
be  sickness,  an'  sorrow,  an'  some  happi- 
ness mixed  in  with  it.  Maybe  a 
good  deal  of  happiness  if  she's  the 
right  one,  but  there'll  be  mighty  little 
if  she's  the  wrong  one.'  An'  all  through 
it  Jimmie  was  as  solemn  as  an  owl,  an' 
said  when  I  got  done,  'Mother'  (he's 
called  me  mother  most  always  since 
he  was  fifteen),  'I've  thought  out  all  that, 
[  158  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


an'  there's  just  one  girl  that  I  want,  an' 
I'm  goin'  to  have  her  if  I  can  get  her,  an' 
if  you  can  help  me,  all  right,  I  want  you 
to  do  it,  but  if  you  can't,  I'll  go  it  alone, 
but  I'm  goin'  to  keep  on  tryin'.' ' 

"Well,  when  I  see  he  was  in  earnest,  I 
told  him  I'd  help  him  all  I  could,  an'  told 
him  I  thought  he  might  make  his  plans  to 
be  married  Christmas  time,  but  not  to  say 
nothin'  about  it  to  nobody.  Only  one 
thing  he  must  do,  he  must  keep  away 
from  the  girl,  an'  if  he  happened  to  meet 
her,  he  must  act  kind  o'  cool,  an'  as  if  he 
thought  he  could  stand  it  if  she  didn't  care 
for  him.  He  almost  refused,  but  I  says, 
'All  right,  then,  no  weddin'  for  Christ- 
mas,' an'  then  he  come  'round,  mighty 
quick.  Only  he  said  he  didn't  think  he 
could  act  that  way,  an'  I  told  him  it  was  a 

[  159  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


case  of  got-to,  nothin'  else.  Seems  so 
queer  to  me  that  men  can't  act  an'  put  on 
as  if  they  was  just  the  exact  opposite  from 
what  they  is,  when  a  woman  has  to  do  it 
all  the  time. 

"He  seemed  to  feel  lots  cheered  by  our 
ride,  an'  the  next  Sunday  afternoon  I 
sent  him  away  over  to  the  other  side  of 
the  county.  No  special  errand,  but 
there  wa'n't  no  use  his  hangin'  'round 
that  girl,  an'  the  drive  wouldn't  hurt  him. 
Of  course,  he  thought  the  errand  was  a 
do-or-die  matter,  or  he  wouldn't  have 
felt  like  goin'. 

"On  Tuesday  the  next  week  I  put  on 
my  things  an'  went  over  to  one  of  the 
neighbours,  that  knew  this  girl's  folks 
pretty  well,  related  some  way,  I  guess.  I 
just  dropped  in  to  visit  awhile,  an'  to  get 
[  160  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


a  pattern  for  a  new  kind  of  apron  she  had, 
an'  of  course  I  wanted  to  start  the  good 
work.  Now  I've  always  thought  this 
neighbour  was  a  good  spreader.  Just  as 
you're  the  other  kind.  When  I  want  a 
thing  kept,  an'  I'm  pretty  near  bustin' 
holdin'  it  in,  I  come  over  an'  tell  you,  but 
when  I  want  a  thing  spread,  an'  well 
spread,  an'  spread  without  bein'  mixed 
in  the  process,  I  go  to  her.  She  tells 
ev'rything,  but  she  tells  it  straight.  If 
I  want  the  thing  well  mixed  an'  stretched 
before  it's  spread,  I  go  to  another  neigh- 
bour. She  couldn't  tell  anythin'  straight 
if  it  was  only  two  words.  Well,  we  got  to 
talkin',  an'  she  happened  to  mention  the 
girl,  an'  said  somethin'  about  Jimmie's 
goin'  with  her,  an'  I  says,  kind  o'  careless 
like,  'Oh,  he  ain't  goin'  with  her  any 
[  161  ] 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


more.  An'  do  you  know,  I  don't  care  if 
he  don't  go  with  her?  She's  a  nice  enough 
girl,  but — well,  I've  got  some  other  plans 
for  Jimmie.'  There  was  a  new  family 
moved  into  the  township  over  east,  an'  I 
knew  she'd  think  I  was  thinkin'  about  one 
of  them  girls.  The  next  day  I  sent  Jim- 
mie over  to  the  new  family's  on  an 
errand,  an'  the  day  after  that  my 
spreadin'  neighbour  hitched  up  an'  drove 
over  to  where  the  girl  lived  that  Jimmie 
wanted  so  bad. 

"Well,  there  was  a  picnic  the  next 
week,  an'  Jimmie  took  one  of  the  new 
family's  girls,  as  I'd  told  him  to.  He 
didn't  have  a  good  time,  but  what's  one 
picnic  more  or  less,  when  there's  a  life- 
time's happiness  at  stake?  The  next  week 
there  was  another  picnic  an'  the  girl  was 
[  162  ] 


A  Woman's  Wiles 


there.  Jimmie  had  gone  with  me,  but 
he  got  away  durin'  the  afternoon.  I  went 
down  after  some  of  that  peppermint  that 
Jimmie  hadn't  got  for  me  the  time  be- 
fore, an'  while  I  was  comin'  back  (I  was 
alone,  havin'  managed  to  get  away  from 
Jim  for  a  little  while,  though  he  did  look 
kind  o'  lost  without  me),  who  should  I 
meet  but  Jimmie  an'  his  girl,  an'  her  hair 
was  kind  o'  mussed,  an'  her  cheeks  was  so 
red,  an'  Jimmie's  eyes  twinkled  so,  an'  yet 
he  looked  so  sheepish,  that  I  asked  just 
this  way,  When's  it  goin'  to  be?'  An' 
Jimmie  burst  out,  'Christmas.'  I  sent 
Jimmie  on  ahead  tellin'  him  I  had  a  few 
things  to  say  to  the  girl,  an7  while  we  was 
talkin',  she  says,  'The  only  reason  I  give 
him  the  mitten  the  first  time  he  asked  me 
was  just  'cause  you  folks  was  so  well  off, 


The  Second  Mrs.  Jim 


an'  I  ain't  got  nothin',  an'  I  was  afraid 
you'd  be  throwin'  that  up  to  Jimmie  all 
the  time  when  we  was  married.  But 
when  you  told  Cousin  Jane  what  you  did 
about  me,  that  made  me  mad,  an'  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  get  him  in  spite  of  you.' 
Then  I  laughed,  an'  said,  'Well,  I'll  try  to 
get  along  with  you  for  Jimmie's  sake.' 

"An'  that's  why  I  come  over  to-day. 
We  want  you  to  come  to  the  weddin' 
Christmas.  I  know  it's  a  long  time 
ahead,  but  it's  the  last  big  doin's  we'll  be 
havin'  on  the  old  place,  for  Jim  an'  Fs 
goin'  to  move  to  town  the  first  of  the  year 
so  that  Frankie  can  have  somebody  to 
look  out  for  him." 

THE  END. 

[   164  ] 


L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 

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The  Mystery  of  Murray  Davenport.    By 

ROBERT   NEILSON  STEPHENS,  author  of  "An   Enemy  to 
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common  to  practically  all  large  cities.  The  political  methods 
employed,  however,  are  in  most  instances  taken  from  the 
actual  experiences  of  men  who  have  served  the  public  in  some 
capacity  or  other,  and  the  stories  told  of  some  of  the  charac- 
ters are  literally  true.  The  love  interest  centres  around  a  girl 
of  high  ideals,  who  inspires  a  wealthy  young  man  to  enter  the 
local  campaign. 

"  Th«  best  one  may  hear  of  '  The  Spoilsmen '  will  be  none  too 
good.  As  a  wide-awake,  snappy,  brilliant  political  story  it  has  few 
equals,  its  title-page  being  stamped  with  that  elusive  mark,  'suc- 
cess.' One  should  not  miss  a  word  of  a  book  like  this  at  a  time 
like  this  and  in  a  world  of  politics  like  this."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"...  It  ought  to  do  good.  The  world  of  municipal  politics  is 
put  before  the  reader  in  a  striking  and  truthful  manner ;  and  the 
sources  of  evil  that  afflict  the  government  of  our  cities  are  laid  bare 
in  a  manner  that  should  arrest  the  attention  of  every  honest  man 
who  wishes  to  purge  and  cleanse  our  local  governments.  It  illus- 
trates, too,  very  forcibly,  how  difficult  a  work  it  is  to  accomplish 
such  municipal  reform,  and  how  useless  it  is  to  attempt  it  without 
united  and  persistent  effort  on  the  part  of  those  who  should  be 
most  interested." —  Graver  Cleveland. 


A    Daughter    Of    Thespis.     By  JOHN  D.  BARRY, 
author  of  "  The  Intriguers,"  "  Mademoiselle  Blanche,"  etc. 
Library  1  2mo,  cloth          ......     $1.50 

The  author's  experiences  as  a  dramatic  critic  have  enabled 
him  to  write  with  authority  on  the  ever  fascinating  theme  of 
stage  life.  From  "  the  front,"  in  the  wings,  and  on  the  boards 
—  from  all  these  varying  points  of  view,  is  told  this  latest 
story  of  player  folk  —  an  absorbing  tale. 


of  the  experiences  of  Evelyn  Johnson,  actrass,  may 
be  praised  jnst  because  it  is  so  true  and  so  wholly  free  from  melo- 
drama and  the  claptrap  which  we  have  come  to  think  inseparable 
from  any  narrative  which  has  to  do  with  theatrical  exp«ri«noes."  — 
Professor  Harry  Tkurstm  Peck,  of  Columbia  University. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION 


Prince    Hagen.        By   UPTON    SINCLAIR,   author  of 
"  King  Midas,"  etc. 
Library  1 2mo,  cloth $1.50 

In  this  book,  Mr.  Sinclair  has  written  a  satire  of  the  first 
order  —  one  worthy  to  be  compared  with  Swift's  biting  tirades 
against  the  follies  and  abuses  of  mankind. 

The  scheme  of  the  book  is  as  delightful  as  it  is  original  — 
Prince  Hagen,  son  of  that  Hagen  who  killed  Siegfried,  grand- 
son of  Alberich,  King  of  the  Nibelungs,  comes  to  this  earth 
from  Nibelheim,  for  a  completion  of  his  education,  and  it  is 
the  effect  of  our  modern  morality  on  a  brilliant  and  unscrupu- 
lous mind  which  forms  the  basis  of  Mr.  Sinclair's  story. 
Prince  Hagen's  first  exploits  are  at  school ;  then  in  the  thick 
of  New  York's  corrupt  politics  as  a  boss.  Later,  after  he  has 
inherited  the  untold  wealth  of  the  Nibelungs,  he  tastes  the 
society  life  of  the  metropolis. 

As  a  story  simply,  the  book  is  thoroughly  entertaining,  with 
a  climax  of  surprising  power  ;  but,  as  a  satire,  it  will  live. 


Earth's  Enigmas.  By  CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS, 
author  of  "  The  Kindred  of  the  Wild,"  "  The  Heart  of  the 
Ancient  Wood,"  etc.  A  new  edition,  with  the  addition  of 
three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth,  uncut  edges  ....  $1.50 

"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.  .  .  .  His 
prose  art,  too,  has  reached  a  high  degree  of  perfection.  ...  In 
'  Earth's  Enigmas '  is  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  in  the  '  Kindred 
of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated  edition 
by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

"  Throughout  the  volume  runs  that  subtle  questioning  of  the 
cruel,  predatory  side  of  nature  which  suggests  the  general  title  of 
the  book.  In  certain  cases  it  is  the  picture  of  savage  nature  raven- 
ing for  food —  for  death  to  preserve  life;  in  others  it  is  the  secret 
symbolism  of  woods  and  waters  prophesying  of  evils  and  misadven- 
tures to  come.  Al»  this  does  not  mean,  however,  that  Mr.  Roberts 
is  either  pessimistic  or  morbid  —  it  is  nature  in  his  books  after  all, 
wholesome  in  her  cruel  moods  as  in  her  tender."  —  Tke  New  York 
Independent, 


L.  C.  PAGE  AND   COMPANY'S 


The   Silent   Maid.      By  FREDERIC  W.  PANGBORN. 
Large  i6mo,  cloth,  with  a  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Mer- 
rill          .         .         -     $1-00 

A  dainty  and  delicate  legend  of  the  brave  days  of  old,  of 
sprites  and  pixies,  of  trolls  and  gnomes,  of  ruthless  barons  and 
noble  knights.  "  The  Silent  Maid  "  herself,  with  her  strange 
bewitchment  and  wondrous  song,  is  equalled  only  by  Undine 
in  charm  and  mystery.  The  tale  is  told  in  that  quaint  diction 
which  chronicles  "  The  Forest  Lovers,"  and  in  which  Mr. 
Pangborn,  although  a  new  and  hitherto  undiscovered  writer,  is 
no  less  an  artist  than  Mr.  Hewlett. 

The    Golden    Kingdom.      By  ANDREW  BALFOUR, 
author  of  "  Vengeance  is  Mine,"  "  To  Arms  !  "  etc. 
Cloth,  1 2  mo,  decorative  cover  .         .         .         .     $1.50 

This  is  a  story  of  adventure  on  land  and  sea,  beginning  in 
England,  and  ending  in  South  Africa,  in  the  last  days  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  The  scheme  of  the  tale  at  once  puts  the 
reader  in  mind  of  Stevenson's  "Treasure  Island,"  and  with 
that  augury  of  a  good  story,  he  at  once  continues  from  the 
mysterious  advent  of  Corkran  the  Coxswain  into  the  quiet 
English  village,  through  scenes  of  riot,  slave-trading,  ship- 
wreck, and  savages  to  the  end  of  all  in  the  "  Golden  King- 
dom "  with  its  strange  denizens.  The  character  of  Jacob  the 
Blacksmith,  big  of  body  and  bigger  of  heart,  ever  ready  in 
time  of  peril,  will  alone  hold  his  attention  with  a  strong  grip. 

The  Promotion  of  the  Admiral.    By  MORLEY 

ROBERTS,  author  of  "The   Colossus,"   "The    Fugitives," 

"  Sons  of  Empire,"  etc. 

Library  1 2mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated        .         .     $1.50 

We  consider  ourselves  fortunate  in  being  able  to  announce 
this  latest  novel  by  Mr.  Morley  Roberts,  who  has  such  a  wide 
circle  of  readers  and  admirers.  This  volume  contains  half  a 
dozen  stories  of  sea  life,  —  fresh,  racy,  and  bracing,  —  some 
humorous,  some  thrilling,  all  laid  in  America,  —  a  new  field  for 
Mr.  Roberts,  —  and  introduces  a  unique  creation,  "Shanghai 
Smith,"  of  "  'Frisco,"  kidnapper  of  seamen,  whose  calling  and 
adventures  have  already  interested  and  amused  all  readers  of 
The  Philadelphia  Saturday  Evening  Post. 


LIST  OF  NEW  FICTION  5 

The   Schemers.     A   TALE  OF   MODERN   LIFE.    By 
EDWARD    F.    HARKINS,   author    of   "  Little    Pilgrimages 
Among  the  Men  Who  Have  Written  Famous  Books,"  etc. 
Library  I2mo,  cloth,  with  a  frontispiece  by  Ernest 
Fosbery    .........     $1.50 

A  story  of  a  new  and  real  phase  of  social  life  in  Boston, 
skilfully  and  daringly  handled.  There  is  plenty  of  life  and 
color  abounding,  and  a  diversity  of  characters  —  shop-girls, 
society  belles,  men  about  town,  city  politicians,  and  others. 
The  various  schemers  and  their  schemes  will  be  followed  with 
interest  —  and  there  will  be  some  discerning  readers  who  may 
claim  to  recognize  in  certain  points  of  the  story  certain  recent 
happenings  in  the  shopping  and  the  society  circles  of  the  Hub. 

The   Captain's   Wife.     By  W.   CLARK  RUSSELL, 
author  of  "  The  Wreck  of  the  Grosvenor,"  "  The  Mate  of 
the  Good  Ship  York,"  etc. 

Library    lamo,    cloth,    with    a    frontispiece    by     W.    H. 
Dunton     .........     $1.50 

The  customary  epithets  applied  to  nautical  fiction  are  quite 
incommensurate  with  the  excellence  of  Mr.  Clark  Russell's  nar- 
rative powers,  and  these  are  thoroughly  at  their  best  in  "  The 
Captain's  Wife."  "The  Captain's  Wife"  is  the  story  of  a 
voyage,  and  its  romantic  interest  hinges  on  the  stratagem  of 
the  captain's  newly  wedded  wife  in  order  to  accompany  him 
on  his  expedition  for  the  salvage  of  a  valuable  wreck.  The  plot 
thickens  so  gradually  that  a  less  competent  novelist  would  be 
in  danger  of  letting  the  reader's  attention  slip.  But  the  climax 
of  Benson's  conspiracy  to  remove  the  captain,  and  carry  off 
the  wife,  to  whom  his  lawless  passion  aspires,  is  invested  with 
the  keenest  excitement. 

The  Story  of  the  Foss  River  Ranch.    sy 

RlDGWELL  CULLOM. 

Library  i2mo,  cloth  decorative  .  .  .  .  $1.50 
The  scene  of  this  story  is  laid  in  Canada,  not  in  one  of  the 
great  cities,  but  in  that  undeveloped  section  of  the  great  North- 
west where  to-day  scenes  are  being  enacted  similar  to  those 
enacted  fifty  years  ago  during  the  settlement  of  the  great  Amer- 
ican West.  The  story  is  intense,  with  a  sustained  and  well- 
developed  plot,  and  will  thus  appeal  to  the  reading  public. 


L.   C  PAGE  AND   COMPANY'S 


The  Interference  of  Patricia.     By  LILIAN 

BELL,  author  of  "  Hope  Loring,"  "  Abroad  with  the  Jim- 
mies," etc.     With  a  frontispiece  from  drawing  by  Frank  T 
Merrill. 
Cloth,  1 2mo,  decorative  cover $1.00 

This  story  adds  not  a  little  to  the  author's  reputation  as  a 
teller  of  clever  tales.  It  is  of  the  social  life  of  to-day  in  Denver 
—  that  city  of  gold  and  ozone  —  and  deals  of  that  burg's  pecu- 
liarities with  a  keen  and  flashing  satire.  The  character  of  the 
heroine,  Patricia,  will  hold  the  reader  by  its  power  and  bril- 
liancy. Impetuous,  capricious,  and  wayward,  with  a  dominat- 
ing personality  and  spirit,  she  is  at  first  a  careless  girl,  then 
develops  into  a  loyal  and  loving  woman,  whose  interference 
saves  the  honor  of  both  her  father  and  lover.  The  love  theme 
is  in  the  author's  best  vein,  the  character  sketches  of  the  mag- 
nates of  Denver  are  amusing  and  trenchant,  and  the  episodes 
of  the  plot  are  convincing,  sincere,  and  impressive. 


A  Book  Of  Girls.     By  LILIAN  BELL,  author  of  "  Hope 
Loring,"  "  Abroad  with  the  Jimmies,"  etc.     With  a  frontis- 
piece. 
Cloth,  i2mo,  decorative  cover $1.00 

It  is  quite  universally  recognized  that  Lilian  Bell  has  done 
for  the  American  girl  in  fiction  what  Gibson  has  done  for  her 
in  art  —  that  Lilian  Bell  has  crystallized  into  a  distinct  type  all 
the  peculiar  qualities  that  have  made  the  American  girl  unique 
among  the  women  of  the  world.  Consequently,  a  book  with  a 
Bell  heroine  is  sure  of  a  hearty  welcome.  What,  therefore, 
can  be  said  of  this  book,  which  contains  no  less  than  four 
types  of  witching  and  buoyant  femininity?  There  are  four 
stories  of  power  and  dash  in  this  volume  :  "  The  Last  Straw," 
"The  Surrender  of  Lapwing,"  "The  Penance  of  Hedwig," 
and  "Garret  Owen's  Little  Countess."  Each  one  of  these 
tells  a  tale  full  of  verve  and  thrill,  each  one  has  a  heroine  oi 
fibre  and  spirit. 


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